#doesn't matter i want to be pinned up against a window and watch the dark landscape pass by while he's pounding me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

separatist-apologist · 9 months ago

Text

Amber Skies

Summary: Feyre Archeron has watched her sisters find happiness with creatures she once believed dead and has decided she doesn't want it.

Her mate intends to change her mind

Part Four of the Dragons Series | Read on AO3 | Wonderland | A Mythical Thing | A Fragile Little Flame

Feyre wrapped a blanket around her body, wishing someone would come and light the fireplace. In her mind, she could see her parents moving through the once opulent bedroom, fussing over the flames while a servant slid a warm bottle of water beneath the sheets to ensure she stayed warm at night. Feyre used to kick at the blankets—careful not to let her bare toes touch the heated water—as she insisted she didn’t mind a little cold.

She minded now. Just like she minded the dark and the silence. Elain was gone and Nesta, too, though Nesta came by more often than Elain. Their meetings were fraught and tense, leaving Feyre more determined than ever. It was that determination that had convinced the blue scaled dragon to bring her back.

Just for the night, she’d lied. If he’d known, he hadn’t said. He’d merely nodded, shifting into a massive, scaled creature and bowing so she could clamber awkwardly onto his back. If he’d come back, Feyre didn’t know. The moment her feet had touched the ground she’d gone off running for the house. Everything was locked, the curtains drawn tight, though Feyre knew that wasn’t enough to stop someone.

How long before they found her? Before they found Tamlin’s body and realized who it must have been that killed him? The humans would be in an uproar made worse if they realized it was her sister, emblazoned with red scales, that had done it.

Better she take the fall. Let Nesta live, let her sisters be happy. They’d make an example of her, lock her away for the rest of her life but Feyre could handle it. She would handle it. There had been enough horrors enacted against her family in the last year and Feyre was ready to see it end.

Curling tighter in her chair, Feyre wished she could sleep. The looming ax over her throat made it impossible for her to relax. Every creaking board, every rattling window betrayed the violent mob that was approaching, determined to see her suffer.

The wind ghosted against the house as the steps outside her bedroom groaned softly. Beneath her blanket, Feyre held a sharp blade so tightly her palms sweat. Feyre might have written off the sounds of the house as just old bones rattling had something—or someone—not crashed loudly against the wall just beyond her bedroom door. A rough, masculine voice swore softly, betraying his presence.

Feyre sighed. “Go away, Rhysand.”

Feyre drew the blanket closer, hoping to hide the arm marked with the scrawling black magic that marked her as thoroughly as any scales might. It was inhuman and therefore other—something Tamlin would have noticed had they ever been married. That wouldn’t matter, now.

Feyre kept waiting for the grief of his death to hit her.

It never did.

Even as Rhys stepped into the dark, half obscured by shadows, Feyre felt nothing at all. No sadness, no anger—just a cold numbness that threatened to overwhelm her. Feyre did wish Rhys would leave, if only because she knew what he was looking at. As those violet eyes pinned her in place, she knew he wasn’t seeing just his supposed mate, but everything else, too.

And it angered him.

Jamming his hands in his pockets, Rhys murmured, “I was told you were in Windhaven.”

Feyre’s heart picked up, just a little. “I was,” she replied, her voice flat and toneless even to her own ears.

“Azriel said you didn’t meet him when he came to bring you back,” Rhys continued, his own voice carefully neutral. “He was concerned you were injured.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Rhys replied, daring a step toward her. “You’ve decided to stay in this rotting house? Is that it?”

Was hatred an emotion? Feyre felt it right then, looking up at this supposed king, this man who had a claim to her before she’d ever gotten a chance to get to know him. There was no escaping him—Feyre knew it.

“Go away.”

“You and I have an arrangement, Feyre darling,” he replied smoothly, coming closer still.

“Rhys—”

“I’m calling it in.”

“It’s one week a month,” Feyre hissed, scrambling out of her chair just as Rhys lunged for her. She was too tired to truly fight him even with her knife, of which he removed rather easily. The metal clattered to the ground as Rhys hauled her against his chest, his heart pounding hard enough she could feel it against her spine.

“You don’t eat, you don’t sleep,” he growled, sounding less like the composed man she was used to and more like a beast, “you refuse safety and warmth and now you sit in this rotting house waiting for certain death—”

“That’s my right!”

“It’s not,” he replied darkly, lips pressed to her ear. “I won’t allow it. I’m calling our bargain in now.”

“I’ll be back in a week,” she spat, twisting until she managed to elbow him in the stomach. Rhys exhaled roughly but didn’t release her.

“I said one week for the rest of your life, never when those weeks had to happen,” Rhys replied with a savage looking smile.

“I might die tomorrow—”

“You won’t,” he replied, cracking his neck, “because you’re going back to Windhaven. There is nowhere safer in the world.”

“I’ll run away again—”

“Oh? Will you? Because I think a light breeze could blow you off course. Where are you going, Feyre? The treetops?”

“I hate you.”

“So long as you’re alive, I don’t care what you feel for me.”

“That’s not what you said—”

“I know what I said,” he replied, his words low and lethal. “I meant every one of them. Now. Are you going to come willingly, or are you going to give me the excuse I’ve been looking for to destroy this house.”

“I’ll never go anywhere with you,” Feyre lied. It was a lie the minute she spoke them, one she knew Rhys clocked the moment she said them. His grip shifted, more gentle than before, hauling her up so she was curled against his body.

“I’d put you on my back but I’m afraid you’d let go,” he whispered, his expression creased with concern. She knew what he wanted her to say—that she’d hold tight, that he could trust her. But the truth was Rhys could not trust Feyre anymore than she trusted herself. Sometimes she thought it would be better for everyone if she did just let go.

Rough fingers found her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “Don’t you ever think that,” he whispered, his anger a blazing inferno. “Not for one second.”

All the fight rushed out of Feyre, leaving her exhausted instead. It was tempting to tell Rhys she wanted to go home—wherever that was—and she was terrified of where he’d take her. Some horrible cell where he locked her up and did whatever he liked with her, most likely. That’s what had happened to Elain and Nesta, wasn’t it? They’d never admit it, of course, but she’d watched Elain hauled away only to return pregnant and preaching the good word of these monsters.

Nesta, too. But Feyre had seen Windhaven—a veritable paradise in comparison to the lives she and her sisters had been living—and she knew the truth. They’d hidden until it was convenient and when it stopped, they’d return to their utopia once again.

Rhys sighed, pulling her from her thoughts. A moment later Feyre was tucked into a large, taloned hand as Rhys threw out dark wings to shield her from the raining debris of stone and wood.

“Rhys—”

He gave her no opportunity to speak the rest of her words. Rhys pushed off the ground, taking the roof with him as they soared into the air. Feyre twisted as the house beneath her began to cave in on itself, reduced to little more than thorny rubble. It had been the jewel of her family estate, the once proud Archeron family now nothing more than dirt and weeds. Feyre had to look away, hiding her face in her shoulder as though that would keep the tears from falling.

Their family was little more than faded ruined memories. Elain was never coming back and neither was Nesta. It had been a fool's hope to think she could keep her mothers memory alive. That she could marry Tamlin, merge their homes, and somehow keep it all going. Feyre knew her parents would be disappointed by what they saw, were they alive to see it. Her father would be wrecked to learn the life Elain was living. No longer the pretty society girl he’d raised her to be, but chasing after chickens and sewing pants for a man who routinely forgot to put them on.

And Nesta, who had been raised to marry a great lord—maybe even a prince—with some warrior creature more at home with weapons than courtly dance.

No one could say Feyre hadn’t tried, though.

Though she was certain they would.

RHYS:

He could smell the salt in the air, could feel the warmth of Feyre’s tears dripping against his leg. Rhys was desperate to set her down anywhere and wipe her face, to hold her in his hands and demand to know who, exactly, had caused those tears and then rip them apart with his teeth.

Rhys didn’t stop flying, flapping frantically to put as much distance between himself and the humans as possible. And he didn’t try to console her, either.

After all, he was the reason for those tears and he knew it. He could hardly rip himself apart, as much as she might enjoy it.

As much as he might deserve it.

Rhys considered taking Feyre to Windhaven before he thought better of it. Nesta would be there, and though Feyre might take comfort in her sister's presence, she might also just find another place to hide. Rhys was far too selfish to pretend her happiness was all that mattered to her.

Nesta had killed a human—that was going to be blamed on them. But Feyre didn’t have to know that.

Let her think they were looking for her just long enough to heal and rest. Rhys could figure it out later. He needed…he needed to go somewhere else. He’d sworn to bring back that missing princess, why not start there? Rhys knew Eris was likely half way back to his own kingdom by then and catching him was likely to result in a brutal and bloody fight.

He could lie, though.

A pang of fear bolted through his stomach. Cassian. Cassian would not forgive another lie and Rhys didn’t have it in him to lie to his only friend in the world. He was close enough he could send a message.

Feyre is safe. I’m taking her with me to find that princess. Keep the palace in order while I’m gone.

There was a beat in which Cassian absorbed the words. Breathlessly, even in his mind, Cassian agreed.

Are you okay?

Rhys didn’t want to think about why he was breathless so late. Rhys only felt jealousy. All the others had found their mates and made them theirs but he…he couldn’t make it work. Peering through the darkness, he saw how Feyre curled around herself, careful not to touch him except where she had to. She didn’t want him and maybe she never would.

I will be.

That was it. Cassian wished him luck before pushing him out and Rhys was happy to let him go. He didn’t think he would be fine if, at the end of this excursion, Feyre still hated him. If he couldn’t pull her out of the horrible place she’d sunken into—one in which she loudly wished she wasn’t alive.

Rhys’s heart thudded wildly in his head as he turned away from the forest route that Eris had almost certainly taken. He wasn’t going to stop him—that was a war Eris could fight on his own. Rhys had been trying to make peace happen, to do what no other dragon had been able to do before him.

But maybe his soldiers had a point. Maybe Cassian had a point. After all…look at what they’d done to Feyre. Had any human females escaped their violence? Rhys tried to wrack his mind, but none came to mind.

“Where are you taking us?” Feyre shouted, her voice clear over the wind. Rhys could hear the words echoing in her mind as they sailed over the inky, violet sea. He knew she didn’t want him in her head, and yet he couldn’t stop himself.

Somewhere quiet. Somewhere safe.

That’s all he’d tell her for the moment. She was already frustrated with him, her thoughts bouncing between abject hatred and not caring at all. Hatred was an emotion, was proof that beneath all her grief, Feyre was still in there somewhere.

Still fighting.

His relief loosened the knot that had formed in his stomach, silencing some of his fears. The day Feyre no longer had the energy to hate him was the day he needed to be worried. For now, all he had to do was bring her back to life—just enough that when they returned to Velaris, she wasn’t willing to roll over and show her belly to some flat faced male.

Feyre writhed in his foot, her thoughts swinging wildly from fear of falling in the water and frustration he was taking her somewhere and wouldn’t tell her where. Rhys merely listened to the bouncing thoughts as he sailed through the chilly air, wishing he’d brought a blanket for her.

He didn’t dare tell her, but Rhys was taking her to the very place his father had once hidden his mother. It was a beautiful, elaborate prison. Meant to hide his female from the rest of the world, to keep her from experiencing the same fate so many others had.

It had, ultimately, failed. His mother had left on the same wings that had brought her to the island, afraid for the young son she’d left behind. Rhys had been fine, paraded about as a human boy that would one day rule humans as their king.

She’d been slaughtered in front of him—he hadn’t been able to help even if he’d wanted to. He’d been restrained by his fathers magic, forced to watch the spectacle while his father warned him that this might be him should he intervene.

Coward.

He’d screamed it in his mind then, and he thought it now, too. Rhys knew, if it was him, he’d have risked everything for his mate. He’d never wanted to rule so desperately he’d watch Feyre die. Maybe some of this was their fault—maybe the males of the past hadn’t loved their females as much as they claimed.

He couldn’t prove that. Maybe his father had merely been forced between his son and mate and had made the agonizing choice between the two. Rhys didn’t want to imagine that—what he’d do, who he’d let die. Was he an option?

Rhys banished those thoughts from his mind, instead sending a trailing of magic ahead to ignite the palace that lay dark in the distance. Feyre’s mind silenced for a moment, her wonder filling his chest as she took it in.

I never knew there was this kind of beauty in the world, she thought. She hadn’t meant to send it to him, but she had. It was a violation of her will and he knew it, and yet Rhys couldn’t help but send some of the music that had once played there back when it was fully staffed. Let her imagine it as it once was. How he wished it still was.

Feyre relaxed against him, pressing her temple to his foot. While she daydreamed, Rhys began to bring them closer, wings sailing against the wind until he could smell the loamy earth beneath. Rhys was gentle, landing one legged so he couldn’t accidentally crush her. He released her, then, into the damp, slightly sandy earth just outside the courtyard. The garden within would be dead—no one had been inside the walls in centuries, and he rarely came anymore.

Too many ghosts wandered the halls.

He was himself a moment later, tugging at the sleeves of his jacket while Feyre looked around. Her hair was a wild mass of tangles and curls framing her gaunt face, hollow eyes almost bright enough to drown out the stars above. Pale, pink lips parted as she turned, looking into the distance at the tall peaks of the jagged hillside.

There had been life here, once. Dragons who preferred life far away from the bustle of Velaris or Windhaven—who liked how life moved slower out in the Illyrian Islands. They’d lost so much and there were so few left who remembered—even Rhys scarcely did, and he’d spent the first ten summers of his life in this place.

“This way,” he said, opening a rusting gate that bore two large dragons just on top of its iron arches. If Feyre looked, Rhys didn’t notice—he was trying hard not to pay close attention, to see if she noticed the things he loved. How she viewed them. He’d already shut her out of his mind, pulling the walls up so tight that no one and nothing could get past.

It would break his heart to hear she hated this place.

The lights offered a little respite from the gloom, though it also made the shadows come alive. Every ruined tree with its spindly fingers and long, twisting arms, seemed to reach for the pair of them. Every shattered window, every creaking hinge was an omen spelling out his doom.

You shouldn’t have returned here.

There was nowhere else to go.

—

Feyre didn’t want to admit she liked the sprawling, dilapidated palace Rhys had brought her to. He clearly didn’t, if the frown gracing his features was any indication. They weren’t permitted to stop and look at any of the features she found so charming. Was this one of his homes? His original home, perhaps?

Everything smelled old, though not in an unpleasant way. Rather than the scent of death and decay, it merely had the touch of something ancient and forgotten—like a lost library, perhaps. She’d never seen anything like it—from the intricate carvings worn away by time to the stained glass windows half ruined from the weather—and despite how much she disliked Rhysand, this place made the yawning ache in her chest feel less hollow.

She hadn’t wanted to leave the house she’d been born in. Feyre felt like she deserved to die there, too. She felt closer to her mother there, and the promise she’d made—and ultimately failed to make good on—all those years ago. Elain and Nesta were gone, happy in their new, strange lives.

Tamlin was dead.

She couldn’t go back. Even if there had been anything waiting for her, Feyre couldn’t. Not without submitting herself to the same justice that had begun this civil war—human men, bent on both punishing women and appeasing the old gods, and their warped sense of righteousness. She’d be found responsible for Tamlin’s death as his soon-to-be-wife.

Maybe that’s what she deserved.

Rhys didn’t bother giving her a tour. He was silent, his boots hitting the stone in a rhythmic pattern, creating a steady beat in which her heart seemed to match. He paused at the end of a long hall—one of the nicer ones they’d walked down since arriving—and pushed open a door that featured a dragon shaped door handle.

“Your room,” he said, revealing a space so lovely and grand that Feyre nearly choked on her own spit. The windows were all intact, the large bed seemingly mostly dust free, and the ornamentation inside still in good condition. Feyre turned to say something to him, but he was gone, vanishing into mist and shadow before a kind word could escape her lips.

That was for the best, she decided as she stepped into the brightly lit room. She knew she wasn’t going to say anything kind to him. Feyre latched the heavy, golden bolt on the door before turning around to really drink it all in. There were little cobwebs in the corners, and the desk set against one the arching windows had such a thick layer of dust covering it that it took three passes with her finger to see the gleaming mahogany beneath. Opening the drawers, Feyre found old ink pots, their contents dried and flaking inside, and feathered pens that were ruined by time.

A chamber beneath the last drawer revealed a false bottom and a little latch that had likely been hidden once upon a time. Feyre pulled it, her curiosity getting the better of her, to find a worn, leather bound book.

She had no right to read it, of course…and yet she took it out, not unwinding the ribbon that kept the two covers together, and slid it beneath one of the ivory covered pillows on the bed. She’d pour through it later and find all Rhysand’s secrets she could leverage against him should she ever need to.

There were no clothes in the drawers or the empty armoire, which did hold several sets of silk sheets and blankets to change out the bed with. She found clothing in a silver trunk at the end of the bed, carved with more figures of dragons taking flight. Unlatching the ruby clasp, she found beautiful dresses that must have been hand sewn with intricate beading and lace work. They’d been protected from the gathering dust and elements, and when Feyre pulled out the top gown, she nearly wept at the easy beauty.

Who had made them?

Where had everyone gone?

Was it truly so easy to wipe out an entire species? The dragons seemed so terrifying to her, she couldn’t imagine any of them losing a war to humans. Even knowing there were so few left, Feyre believed they must have just left it all behind and started somewhere a little more hospitable.

She hung the delicate gowns up on satin covered hangers, admiring each gown like it was a priceless piece of art. The colors didn’t exist in the fashion color palette anymore—moody blues and icy grays coupled with buttery yellows and floral pinks and purples mixed with mossy greens and wine red maroons. Every season hung in that armoire, the gowns ranging for those fit for a queen to the everyday garb.

Feyre took out a lacy night dress and hung it over her shoulder as she made her way to the bathing chamber. The tub overlooked the same sea her bedroom did, and as she waited to see if the water would heat itself, having washed out the tub as best she could with her hand, she opened a window to listen to the waves crash against the shore.

She sat naked on the lip of the tub, thinking of the last trip her family had ever taken to the beach. She barely remembered it—she couldn’t have been older than four or five. In her mind, the echoes of Elain’s screeching laughter and Nesta’s bossy tone demanding she stop running so far into the surf bounced around her skull. She could remember her toes in the sand.

Feyre wanted to feel it again.

The water was lukewarm at best, and still better than the frigid ice water she’d been using back home. There was no soap, so Feyre merely rinsed herself off as best she could before air drying in the cool night. She flung on the dress and then practically ran from the room. Did she remember the way back out? No, Feyre didn’t. She took a wrong turn down one of the dimly lit halls, her bare feet silent against the moonstone below. Pushing open a door she hoped would lead her outside, Feyre, instead, found herself in a strange room. It was nearly dark, though she found a dusty candle that smelled faintly of vanilla, and managed to lift herself up high enough to ignite the wick with one of the sconces in the hall. From there, Feyre went candle to candle until the room was better lit, though the long shadows of the furniture, covered beneath white sheets, seemed to stretch in every direction.

Weaving in and out of the furniture, which seemed to have been shoved in haphazardly at a later date, she found easels. Pulling the white sheets from them, Feyre was delighted to find artwork peering back at her. Most of it were pastoral scenes—rolling hills framed beneath stormy skies or wide beams of light reflecting off the expanse of ocean below.

But others were of him. A little boy with inky hair and golden brown skin. With those unmistakable, violet eyes, peering back at Feyre seriously, not a laugh line to be found. There was no joy on his face, none of the mirth she could find even in her own childhood. Just a boy, often alone with no background to anchor him. It was as if the artist painted him from memory, and every memory they had was of a sad child.

Feyre dug around, her excitement overwhelming her. If there had been an artist, then surely they’d left behind paint? She couldn’t remember the last time she had any—it must have been years. Before Elain had been stolen away and the dragons had come, at least. Everything before that had been about survival.

Taking her candle, Feyre moved around the piles of boxes and sheets until she found the tins she was looking for. They’d dried out over time, but a little water extracted from her own bathroom brought them back with relative ease.

“Oh,” she whispered softly, dipping her finger into a pot of red paint. It was diluted and not as vibrant as she would have liked. A little chunky, likely expired and still…better than anything she’d seen in a long time.

Was it wrong to finish the portrait of Rhys? A defilement of the original memory? Wind flooded the room for just a moment, rustling the canvas and her hair as if to say, do it. Perhaps it was wishful thinking. Maybe Rhys would see it and be irate she’d dared. She kept waiting for that flash of temper, for his raised voice, his bruising knuckles kissed over her cheek.

After all, Tamlin had once wanted to take care of her, too.

She lost track of time, using her dull colors to try and draw some emotion out of the sad boy. The background became as moody as his morose expression, anchoring him in his grief. What had happened to him, she wondered? Was this after he lost his family? When he’d decided to pretend to be a human, reshaping the reality of the people around him to forget what he was and that he’d ever truly existed?

Feyre felt pity in those final strokes. The paint was streaky, with little droplets staining his jacket and face. In a way, it looked as if the whole world mourned with him. Though it wasn’t her best work, it was the first bit of painting she’d been able to do in a long time. She’d get better with more practice.

The joy she’d felt while painting had brought back all the pain she’d been squashing. Feyre rose, the emotions sloshing around her chest. It was too much—the feeling of being a failure, the broken heart of loving a man who’d never loved her back, of losing her sisters when she needed them. All of it came crashing against her, nearly toppling her with its ferocity.

Feyre stumbled into the hall, trying to catch her breath as panic began to set in. She was still alone, still isolated and now she was trapped with a man who’d stolen her away with ease. There was no escaping, and the thought of spending her time here made her way to scream.

She turned, finding herself face to face with the very man himself. Rhysand halted, eyes round and wide as he took her in. He…he wasn’t wearing clothes, she realized. She’d never seen the purple marks inked along his skin. They swirled along his broad shoulders and down his toned chest before making their way over his biceps. What did they mean, she wondered?

Feyre had forgotten what she was doing as her eyes dipped down the muscular plane of his stomach, following the inky trail of hair just beneath his navel to what hung between his legs.

That was inked, too.

Oh.

“Feyre,” Rhys said, his voice strange and hoarse. Her eyes immediately found his face again, embarrassment crawling up her neck. “You’re awake.”

“I…” she didn’t know how to tell him she hadn’t been sneaking out, but merely exploring. He took a step toward her, hand outstretched and Feyre panicked, scrambling backward so quickly she slipped on the slick floors and fell on her ass.

He stopped. “You have paint on your cheek,” he whispered. Her fingers flew upward, likely smearing it over her skin.

“Oh,” she whispered again. “I…don’t have soap.”

He nodded, running a hand through his thick hair. Did he notice he was naked? In the vague recesses of her mind, Feyre seemed to remember this was part of their culture as explained by a furiously blushing Elain. He held his ground as she stool back up, fingers balled to fists at his sides.

Was he angry? Feyre couldn’t tell.

“I’ll…I’ll get you what you need,” he said, eyes still lingering on her face. Feyre forced herself not to look at any other part of him, slipping around his body. He didn’t touch her, rigid as she went. She couldn’t explain why, but she’d expected him to—had waited to feel his hands grab her, to pull her against him and force her to look at him.

When she looked over her shoulder at the end of the hall, Rhys was gone. She still locked her door that night, but in the morning when she woke, bleary eyed and exhausted, all she found was a basket of toiletries.

And tin, upon tin, of fresh paint.

—-

Rhys couldn’t get the painting out of his mind. His mother had painted in her final lonely year, her hands arthritic from all the sewing she’d done. He didn’t know if painted helped with that—if it alleviated any of the ache or merely exacerbated it. Once she’d died, his father hadn’t been able to stand looking at them and had it all covered.

Seeing Feyre with a smudge of blue on her cheek had reminded him of his mother. He hadn’t even known she liked to paint, let alone that she had any skill. She’d taken his mothers grief and anchored it into reality, making him feel real rather than a specter.

He wanted to tell her that, but when he’d reached out his hand toward her the night before, Feyre had gone flying back, eyes wide with fear. Better to just show her what it meant to him. He couldn’t sleep, besides, so he’d flown back and ransacked a local artisan, leaving gold coins behind so the theft wasn’t felt so heavily.

He’d spent the rest of the night trying to clear the cobwebs from the palace. How had Lucien done it, he wondered? He’d built a whole house with his bare hands, but Rhys could barely work a broom. It irritated him. He wanted to be useful to his mate, but all his skill lay in governing rather than building.

He was going to have to ask for help, and the more people he brought to the palace, the more people and places Feyre would have to hide. For now, he’d simply have to figure it out. There was a library, after all, containing all the knowledge his people had left behind. Their stories, their craftsmanship, their politics—all lay in the still intact library in the east wing of the palace.

He’d gone looking for help cutting glass and had fallen asleep sprawled out in a chair, basking in a beam of light like he was more lizard than man.

Maybe he was.

“Do you ever wear clothes?” Feyre’s voice pulled him from sleep, her outrage almost pleasant. More emotion, which was better than no emotion at all.

“When I’m forced to,” he replied, not bothering to open his eyes. He liked her eyes on him and wished she’d take her clothes off, too.

Or, that’s what he thought until he finally opened them. Feyre stood, arms crossed over her chest, wearing a mossy colored dress his mother had made. He knew that style of beading, remembered how fashionable a tapered waist and flared sleeves had once been. Feyre was just a little too thin for it, collarbone jutting just above the neckline as the heavy fabric hung from her frame.

She needed to eat.

The hollows and shadows in her expression made Rhys wonder if Tamlin had done more than hit her. Would Nesta have told him if he had? Rhys didn’t know how to ask, though he did understand how casually cruel human males could be.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, rising to his feet. He kept his desire leashed close so his body didn’t betray him. Feyre’s eyes drifted just as they had the night before, gaze lingering on his cock just long enough to make him think she lacked experience. Rhys’s relief was palpable, though he wouldn’t totally relax until he heard her speak the words from her own lips.

“I…” pink flooded her cheeks. “I’m lost.”

“Ah. Well…how about a tour?” he suggested before the sound of her stomach reminded him that his mate needed to eat. “After breakfast.”

“I’m not eating with you,” she said sharply. Rhys knew an opponent when he saw one. She wanted a fight, did she? He’d give her a fight.

“Who else would you eat with?”

“Alone.”

“Oh, what fascinating company your thoughts must be,” he practically purred, brushing a magical talon against her mind. Feyre stiffened but didn’t move, eyes pinning him in place. Did she know he’d grovel at her feet if she asked? All to see her smile? Just one time—just once, and he’d leave her alone.

She didn’t smile, which meant he didn’t need to leave her. “They’re more interesting than you.” He pressed a hand to his chest, letting it slide down to his stomach just so he could watch her gaze trail after it.

Don’t react, don’t react, don’t react—

“My thoughts don’t irritate me,” Feyre informed him.

“I didn’t bring you here to eat alone,” he said, trying to tamp down the desire he felt. Was this why humans insisted on restrictive clothing? Rhys had never understood their version of civility—he’d merely played along. It occurred to him right then that trousers might hide his excitement, allowing him to feel desire without Feyre being immediately aware of it.

A few deep breaths left him totally flaccid and able to walk her through the palace to an area he’d cleaned out the evening before. The little balcony overlooked the water and was set up with food that a few bees were currently feasting on. Rhys waved his hand, scattering them before pulling out a white chair for Feyre to plop into.

She was going to make the most wonderful queen, he decided. Feyre would be his final compromise with the humans—they could be ruled by one of their females, or they could suffer the same fate his people had. The idea struck him just as the clouds parted, bathing her in warm, golden light from dawn. She looked regal—exquisite, even, and Rhys knew he needed to give her peace, even if it meant his hands were always coated in blood.

Still, when the nobles saw how little manners they had, Rhys knew there would be multiple conversations about her suitability. Perhaps he’d eat one of them simply for suggesting it, just for fun.

Cassian might finally forgive him if he did.

Rhys sat gracefully, making a show of putting his dusty cloth napkin over his lap. He swore her mouth twitched just as the corners. He’d get her.

“Eat,” he urged, not wanting to admit that he’d stolen most of it. She didn’t ask, perhaps assuming he has some magical ability to conjure it. He could do a fair amount with his magic, but he wasn’t a god. Rhys was still forced to procure things just like everyone else.

Feyre took a bite of a waffle, eyes fluttering shut at whatever she tasted. Rhys held his breath, fork speared against a piece of fruit, as he waited. The noise she made was barely audible—the breathiest moan that shot straight to his cock. She liked it.

Thank the stars, he thought with relief. She took another bite before he did, reaching for a piece of cooked ham and scooping fruit onto her plate. She was merely starving out of necessity and not some deeply held principle. Rhys could live with that, though just barely.

Rhys ate slowly, watching each piece that went into her mouth. She didn’t seem interested in eggs or bread and seemed to truly enjoy the sugary waffles and donuts. What did he care what she ate, so long as she ate something? He’d get more of it, until he knew exactly what she liked.

“Would you like–”

“No.”

Feyre set her fork down, one hand on her stomach. Rhys raised his brows, trying to swallow his disappointment. “No?”

“I don’t want to do anything with you.”

Ah.

“The grounds are yours,” he said as if it didn’t hurt his feelings. Feyre shot him one last look before she rose, brushing non-existent crumbs from her lap. He watched her go, long hair swinging down her back. She was beautiful, he thought to himself as he banished his disappointment. She merely needed time to see he wasn’t like the other males. He could give that to her.

Rhys would give her anything she asked for.

#feysand #dragon rhys

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only-lonely-lovers · 1 year ago

Text

08.06.2022

tags: fingers in throat, blowjobs, pantomime, hair pulling, handjobs, knifeplay, injury, blood

notes: link to PART 1

Bird is あ / Avvy is つ

つ：it's so much simpler rn than Tsukasa can imagine….. and more ah. going to happen no matter what.

あ：Perhaps a comically miserable visual of, like, Tsukasa being in a heap around knocked over school desks and getting lifted by the collar.

つ：mmm yiss…. dark classroom

あ：the dramaticism of Hanako just pinning Tsukasa during the mitsuba debacle, like, he just has this capacity. to be like IMMEDIATELY slams you against a surface, against a desk. clawing at fabric. m…. i actually like him losing all concept of a plan honestly and everything coming out in sheer impulse, like, starting to just hump like an animal. holds you by the throat and cranes to kiss. ah… but the satisfaction of holding with inhuman amounts of strength…

Ugh, you know, I don't think Hanako is… a good or fair boy, I do think he tries to keep things separate on instinct, behaviors… I do think there are things he does with Nene alone that he purposefully doesn't want to be spectated on by Tsukasa, and it goes both ways actually. Things you just wouldn't want Nene to see and react to, have commentary on. it's unfair of him but he plays unfair and likes the sense of control… Unreasonably self-justifying in the moment, It's my right to get to do this-- I, can choose, what you all see, you already work against me and do all this crazy shit to me… and make me insane… so… RHG….

frenzied rambling, between clutching and grabbing and biting, like, "Is this what you wanted? This? You wanted me to get like this, didn't you." [venting, aloud, frustration] "What's wrong with you-? Why does it have to be like this. Why would you want it? Again… and again." [growling] "But-- but no, it's worse this time. It's getting worse…"

つ：Amane wants to keep everything under control… there really would be things he wants to say, do, with Nene, ways of holding and handling her, that he doesn't want Tsukasa to see, learn from, know… and… maybe even ways touching her in front of him would somehow feel bad. Amane is avoiding piano wire in every direction… wire he is placing around. Boundaries he insists on maintaining to keep things feeling controlled….. for all of these concessions he appears to be making, Tsukasa knows it is only the tip of the iceburg.

あ：It's a looong slow process to start integrating things..

つ：ah… a breathless Tsukasa, mouth is agape as always, its like an open window with just a slight breeze parting through it. Like he can't think and breathe larger exhales at once. Worse is an interesting word. It's interesting Amane would use it. He seems mad-- but he was seeking him, so it's not that Tsukasa messed up. He's mad, but he wanted to find him, to be mad at. He's often replying in somewhat non-sequitur ways. "I didn't know you'd want to see me. you don't do this! You surprised me!"

あ：the sincerity…. the way Tsukasa simply commenting openly about things, can feel like arrows at someone, like. it's true I don't. Ughh.h… [shakes] [squeezes torso] Paradoxically, you want to argue, I DON'T want to see you

つ：ever difficult……. and watching you be difficult.

あ：Though, I think the sentence like, feels too shitty to say, but he's visibly working his mouth… as if there's bile in it, so struggling is Amane. Tsukasa can watch with big eyes

settling on something like… "I have to do this." cryptic… trying to phrase it like, its out of my hands. [drags hand over face…] "It has to go somewhere."

though ugh feeling like… TSUKASA… you know … YOU KNOW YOUR BROTHER IS INSANE!! [crying]…. YOU UNDERSTAND . LIKE. COME ON….

"You know this-!" voice cracking

つ：nods nods nods nods… hai hai hai….!! "I see!" ah……… a pleasant feeling… of being the receptacle for Amane's less savory urges. Absorbing them….. like a liver absorbs poisons, so the body can continue its processes. It's incidental that they are where they are…. in a dark classroom, windows covering the far wall behind them, chairs rested on top of desks all around like brambles, the area they are in a bit upended….. the moon and stars shining in through the window. Tilts his head. "Should I be quiet?"

あ：Hmm…. Despite everything… somehow… the fluidity of Tsukasa's reply induces some sense of serenity, bizarrely contrasting everything felt just a moment ago. Like… ah. Starting to load in that it's finally time to just… to not think about. What I want to do. and, just get to , do it… some feeling of like, ah, of course, Tsukasa is the same as ever, and is going to say something like that. [this is painful to swallow as well, but doesn't interrupt anything.] Leans back. Subconsciously, he's drinking in the atmosphere. Night time… night lighting… seeing Tsukasa in the night. Stokes something. Inhales… sweat dripping down face. Swallows.

Voice drops, lower, quieter. "No." Tinkling sound, of metal from buckle jostling, belt being undone. Reaches forward and catches jaw, quickly. And shoves fingers into his mouth, into the back of his throat. coating them… then, wrapping hands around himself. "This is actually the one time you shouldn't be." Uncontrollably huffing. Like. You're actually loud at all the wrong times.

Entering a state of psycho calm. and then psycho psycho.

つ：XD xD HE SISSLSIALADIKL he saidthat but glgl;gkg❤️ ahhhouhhueouh noooo ❤️ ahh I mean yesss❤️ or is it… ahh…. LOOKS down too quickly, mouth agape, not wiping off the spit dripping…. a very pleasant "haaaaaiiiii" which sounds well-dizzied and airheaded. aouho…. ehoueh..??? ffind me to do…. for this? he doesn't seem so angry anymore <3? maybe he's not mad at me really….. ❤️? it has to go somewhere, he said…. he said that…. perhaps assumingly, starts sinking towards the ground, to his knees…….. usually, he'd wait for Amane to directly move him this way or that, but he's not thinking well right now. algourhgggdfdsf… like a little music box, mind plays Amane calling his name into the hallway….

あ：of course it is like this . [forces self to not look away]

mn… but you like how much Tsukasa can feel like a minx without even meaning to, like, genuinely just is overwhelmed and excited and responding, but on Amane's end it's like. [lip curls from disdain. from the slut body.] [but also starts jerking self off without thinking] like ooh. hand just starts moving.

What are we doing. [flat voice]

つ：I imagine for tsukasa it's like, ah being a mindless little animal, for Amane you have to watch this all and its like. very lidded and pleasant and drooly. oruhgh. why…… looking hugely desperate for it. sssssgggz.

あ：why would it even…. [me mentally simmering thinking about belt harness for blowjob] m……. the art

つ：ugh its nice to think abouuuut…. really make tsukasa feel like he's in a particular situation. we're not stopping any time soon

あ：it's…. a situation where amane isn't going to be considerate at all about exhaustion… like mguh the limiters that are usually on. gone. sex for hours stop acting like human

つ：the illusion of humanity gets to be gone. typically speaking…. you wouldn't want to spend hours doing things to tsukasa while nene is incapacitated as she's a human……. and you can't spend so long doing things to nene herself…..

あ：it's like rude. and also i think amane genuinely struggles with ahhh being that. indulgent wwww…. it's such a back and forth with him, i think when he really relishes in something it's ephemeral by nature.

as much as he can get a little tyrant boyking. he's got nerfs.

つ：hard to live in it for too long

the one boon of being alone with tsukasa… is there's no pretense to keep up. it's all an illusion. as much as he can be barfing limitless amounts of 'blood' while teru messes with him, then simply talk calmly to kou 2 minutes later. it's all just some symbolism the body retains for flourishes

あ：mmnn yeah… like… in this case there's only "the spirit is willing" in a sense we're not… people… we don't need to eat or sleep

つ：we don't need 'breaks'…..

あ：like not going to get dizzy and pass out

つ：once it's indulging… you want to do the next thing you've errantly thought about. this, that, the other thing, all of it. and just humping bent over desk.

あ：tasteful breaks for pantomime and rutting… bend over this, flip him here i like to think about lacing fingers while bodies flush from behind.. has this pleasant wrapped around against feeling to it overlaid atop

つ：with a tsukasa instructed to not be quiet…. ah. the room is filled with 'Amane, Amaaaneeee, Amane, Ah," laughing…… hiccuping. squeaky sounds of shoes on school tile scrambling to stay upright.

this feels equivalent to breaking a bunch of bottles against some cement walls for managing stress.

あ：It's roughly the equivalent Feels like ingesting poison flirting with something you know you shouldn't… you just know this.

つ：Amane laughing out at some point…. "We really can't let her see this….." breathing… "it's not. About. Embarrassment…. or humility…. really…." huff…. huff. wiping his nose. thinking about it all. "Wouldn't it be easier if it was just that. But it's not. She can't… see me. Doing this." GRABS Tsukasa by the hair… hikes him up. "Who would willingly be a part of this? … except you."

"It doesn't look good. it's not a good look for me." too-casual sounding about it. like this is an image problem

あ：rolls shoulders.

Getting too comfortable in this state… ah but it is like, releasing pressure from somewhere, to just sigh and say things. Unsavory things. But stuff you carry around internally, constantly. As much as Tsukasa is allowed to be noisy, it's permission for himself, also, to just say it. Address it. Dryly almost. like hahaha. It's funny isn't it.

the way Amane himself gets very ^^ when unhinged… it's just like, ahh… "It's like, there was a reason I could never have a girlfriend before. Don't you think." pause. "Even if everything in life was completely normal, idyllic."

つ：tsukasa kicks legs around behind him pleasantly. Laughs a little, a heeheehee

"I think Nene-chan would be ready for more than you think." brushes up against him pleasantly. "If you were ready for thaaaaat…."

あ："You think. Hmm." [reaches and hooks thumb into mouth, rubs teeth.] "Well, I think you're too sick to be able to tell something like that." [moves jaw from side to side] "There's something wrong with you too, you know."

"You're speaking from a biased position."

つ：AHHH WE'RE HAVING FUN❤️❤️ [mouth compromised] "aaahoumahbuee"

あ：[tabbing thumb in and out of mouth] "Don't you just want me to have anything I want…? So it doesn't really matter what Yashiro is 'ready' for. If I did it anyways, you'd be happy to watch. Wouldn't you."

"That's not very fair, or reliable."

つ：ohhhhh but it doesn't matterrrrr❤️ "MNSHe wan's what" his finger exited. "you want, too, hehe. We're all like that….! but…."

"….. maybe it's…. a little bad…." touching finger to own mouth, thinking. "for a living body…." "it's hard to remember….."

あ：think it through. "It's dangerous." [fingers leisurely threading around throat… walking them up along the skin, tracing jaw, nape] "You two aren't worried enough about these things. So, I have to be."

つ：tsukasa's alignment of like mnnyyaaaaa everything should just happen that you want to happen sweetie even if it breaks. the world or bones❤️

あ：that is his alignment. but if nene wants to risk getting a crushed pelvis…………….. o3o it's her choice…………………………..

つ：but if she wants your truth ah i remember this damn tumblr post… which someone was saying was like,a piece of paper they errantly found tucked into a book. and it said something like… "How much can a body endure? Almost anything." it lives in my brain….

あ：Mnn you love words…….

💮つ："Amane….." ah… playing with fire. "I wonder……… do you like some things…… being just between us?"

"I'd love to share everything with Nene-chan… she's a good girl. I think she deserves it….."

"….. but maybe it's a little hard to think about giving up?" "you were so resolute…. back then…"

____________________

💔FORK 1🎇

あ：This is playing with fire. Mm… but you're both knowingly doing this… Amane knows that mentioning past at all, in any way, is dangerous, it comes with a distant feeling of being on edge. He lives his life purposefully never engaging with his past and obfuscating things, and, I think there is genuinely risk to even mention that your favorite food is donuts (it was something you shared with Tsukasa…) You know you shouldn't… Every step of this is, I know I shouldn't…

Tsukasa would immediately feel the movement still, attentive to how all indulgent touch has been snuffed. But the hands at his neck don't move either, locked in place, Amane is statuesque. It's like… a cold, nauseating feeling immediately interspersed in his bloodstream, having been injected from the base of the neck, into the spine. It mingles with the heat of the still-aroused body. Still having heat pooled at the pelvis… It's really like.. vision blurs…. Breathing coming out more ragged. a minute ticks by, in silence.

つ：take your time❤️

あ：Mn… hands peel away… to clutch at face, hide face. Starting to cry… but, ah, it IS a feeling of grief, at the concept of having to 'give this up'… To have to relinquish something… He doesn't like to think of himself as someone holding onto something, but by definition he is, like, viciously protective of this all. When I think about the Amane possessively wrapped around the moon… but then, also, how even in Picture Perfect, which is all about trapping and keeping Nene for himself, he's still repeating his mantra of not going anywhere. You're still mentally living in your own proclamation, like, it just felt so good to say back then, and you've defined yourself by this…

つ：its… genuinely hard to 'keep living', so to speak. it's hard. to move forward.

あ：It feels so much like someone feeling like they have no choice to make concessions (I'M NOT AMANE, I'LL NEVER BE AMANE, I LEFT MY LIFE BEHIND…) but also keeping their fingers dug into whatever they have left

つ：develop… advance… whatever. it would be easiest to just touch yashiro's life and send her on her way…. and keep this thing with tsukasa bound in the basement.

あ：Somehow existing between not wanting to ever think about it, but being unable to think about leaving it…

つ：reaching for him…. rubbing thumb over his wrists…..

あ：I can 't have it, it's too beautiful, it's gone and dead, it's gone from me, i'll never have it again… [grieving]

つ：smiling, though…. "… did I spoil it? Awwe…. but I wanted you to keep going." "Maybe you really shouldn't let me talk." lighthearted❤️

あ：mnnmhng….. [reaching for…] [settles hands at either side of face…] [pulls to be forehead to forehead.] needs to sulk. like. can't… talk… but god thinking. with my stupid little amane brain

つ：its a feeble little brain nuzzles, rubs cheeks, rubs face into shoulder, back up to jaw, all over

あ：hm i want to contemplate like potential branches.. like if avvy would want to spitball things. like fun options crazy options

つ：oh syure. contemplate forks possible to just shut down, and possible to not shut down….

あ：for more shut-down path i'd still be curious if like… if he could manage an admittance, still. very very beleaguered and barely getting through "… it is. hard. but why-?" like sounding betrayed by self. but also hearing himself say it is like grooannns MOANS IN MISERY…

つ：becomes child

あ：mistake. i said it SULKING…

つ：hugs him. pities him very much. suppresses the shudder but feels this seep into his body as a fact. mmmmmm….

あ：rambling, muttering, like, "i don't know why. shouldn't… it shouldn't. but it was never supposed to. be like this. any of it. it's all wrong…" "i don't know how it got like this"

つ："It wasn't what you had planned. At all."

あ：shakes head.

つ："it's unfair, like that!"

あ：nods.

つ：thinking about it all… "you wanted oblivion for us." strokes his hair…….

thinking, its easy to see where amane struggles.. if only it was a full-measure, in any direction. nothing but tsukasa…. or everything but tsukasa. it's terrible he's so supportive, too… why and how doesn't he feel betrayed, sometimes? he's just not…. if tsukasa ran off and got a girlfriend gklf;k;jgfkg;…..

あ：the amount this could not come to pass wrhghfjd

つ：it sucks to hold onto any of it preciously, and not even 100% of it….! It makes no sense…. it really is like. ah i do all that and i'm not even like . . in love fkldjf;k with my brother help fklg;fg!!! why are we just still such. normal siblings (not normal) (but you know) …. wiouh.

あ：im hte kind of guy who would kill your girlfriend. i am sorry it's like why do i need to possess you-- WHY??!??/GH FDG/H maybe getting hysterical really thinking this over. like oh my god… but why!!

つ：its liek god but if i'm so fucking weird why wasnt i just doing this for 50 years fklds;fjksf

あ：[rubbing knuckles against eyes]

つ：WHY'D I NEED-- OURGHOJLHK so many steps

あ：[voice cracking] "Actually, aren't you sick of it all…? Aren't you tired of it. ME? What I'm doing-- or, what I'm not doing-? The way I treat someone who is supposed to be. 'Precious.' To me. Isn't it absurd. Running from this all, because of what I can't take. But then, it's not even that, I take everything out on you alone, or, that I'm done with you completely… It's not safe in the past, but it doesn't belong in the present. What's wrong with me?"

[one completely black eye sort of crazy] "I just do whatever I want to you, but in a careless way. I'M not even happy about it. No one is! No one's happy." [shaking] "YOU can't be happy. You can't be." [digging fingers into white button up… threading into gaps]

"We talk about unfair, but, isn't it the most unfair to be you? I made sure you'd never have anyone that isn't me. But it doesn't work both ways."

つ：blinks. looking at him. It's gotten interesting! He's saying so much….

"I'm happy!" laughs-- too easily! "It's simple for me. It's always been! So simple! You remember, don't you? It's different for you. Always has been! Thats O-K, Amane." "I thought you needed to go to the moon to be happy. And travel the world. You really wanted such big things! Big, big, grand things…! It looked like…. I'm not like that. Well, it turned out you didn't need that….."

"… we're still figuring out what you need, aren't we….? Nene-chan, too….. she's eager to find out. You should be, too…. we're a little closer, aren't we? To whatever it is? I'm excited, Amane!"

"I'm excited to find out what it looks like. I wonder how much of the past is inside it. Or is it outside of that? I wonder? I wonder….."

あ：[whining… bemoaning…] "How can you be excited…" feeling gut seize, thinking about this all. manages a miserable laugh. "I'm… TERRIFIED… to find out."

つ：licks his face. "But it'll feel good, once you find it out" "you'll start feeling good, all the time, have what you want" "I've been waiting for that!" "it's only scary for now!"

あ：[voice lowers…] "It's not that it doesn't feel good." "really… that's… the problem." "So often." [exhales] "It feels good." "But it's… a sickening kind of good… You know…?" [tilting head lower…] "It's… warped. It doesn't look right." "No one's supposed to feel like this. Humans, supernaturals. Maybe, especially supernaturals."

つ：touches forehead to and nuzzles back and forth "you're special…. aaaahhh… it's so exciting…." tugs at sleeves, shirt….. "so exciting…. Amane, you're not like anything else…. nothing is made for you….. nothing in this world….." panting…. "they didn't make it for you… that's why it's wrong… " panting….. "God should have made it all for you."

あ：[mouth twisting…] [feeling prickles down neck.] he ah, he can't stop an involuntary little throaty sound. slips past the teeth. legs shuffle.

"Careful."

ah it feels so… ssss… you should know better than to… start saying something so. sssssss.s…. It's like Tsukasa is punctuating what he just mentioned, making him feel. So good that it is just nauseating. What is this… why can we communicate like this

つ："If it's not for you, it's worthless…." I WILL NOT BE CAREFUL. Choppy laughter, in the throat…. "If you didn't want me.. I'd be worthless." wheeze. "I thought I was, Amane… but I'm not…. that feels so good. You can't imagine."

"the things you care about, Amane, they're different…. you make them different…. Nene-chan, too… "

"I know it's all for you, really…. everything… I know… can't you feel it, a little…."

あ：[hand quietly drifts to clutch at stomach… buttons of gakuran jacket digging into palm. thinking of various things, the searing here, the way arousal pools here, the way this is where he stabbed himself, thinking about the knife that is always going to be inside his form.]

"….v… ..f… ov.f….. course. I can." it's like the mouth stings to say any of it. mm… voice is devoid of any tone. speaking, possessed. "-- you can tell, can't you. That I feel something so. Wonderfully terrible, incredibly, incredibly horrible. It's beyond… what someone could call 'entitlement'. There's not a word for it." pupils shaking. "Whatever you can call it. It's the sort of mindset of someone who felt they could just have an entire person's life." sharp inhale. "Just-- just take it. I just took it. And I loved to take it. And now it's always mine."

"But-- Tsukasa." eyes squinted. "Isn't it terrible that it's always felt like that, really-? If you think back. And back and back and back… so far back… before anything was even wrong. Isn't it-- the same, from the start-? What you always were, to me." licks teeth.

"It's insane. Who feels that?" starts laughing… "Just, about, their little brother. Sooner feeling like you were something I owned like the toys you brought me. Than just wanting to kiss you!"

"But before I even cared about Yashiro as a person I saw her like, an animal to put in a tank to keep. Haha." hand darts out quickly, clutches Tsukasa's, and brings it to rest over his own stomach.

つ：dutifully rubs stomach with thumbs, tilting head at it….

"You know. I wonder how Nene-chan feels. Maybe she wouldn't know what to saaay… it's hard for living humans to think like this. But it got real easy after the first time I died for you, to know. It was real easy, like, 'ah, it's meant to be like this'!…… I think Nene-chan feels it too! We'll hear it one day, I'm sure, I'm sure…. or, you will, maybe. When you're alone. Or maybe she'll tell me first." getting distracted pointlessly on details

"Anyone can want to kiss someone else. That would have been fine. Like us eating the same things. I would have liked that too. But it wasn't like that. It was bigger." "I could feel it, so I did what I did."

あ：[just quietly listening… mn……] [resigned…. bumps hips upward a little. barest twitches.]

つ："… WHATS SO INTERESTING IS THAT IT'S ALL COMBINING!" REALLY LOUD OPEN MOUTHED

あ：[like you dropped an anvil on him.] [just like. "."]

つ："ITS A LITTLE LIKE EVERYTHING, NOW, SOMEHOW……" "YOU WANNA DO THAT STUFF, TOO" "so it's not just the weird eternal ownership thing"

あ："Uhuh." "Do you think it's better or worse like this."

つ："I thought you had a thing with me like that and then you were horny for Nene-chan" "which is different, you know? it's two things"

あ：jesus.

つ："but her thing changed my thing…. and now its like this" "I like this." pats hands on

あ："It's not just like." "Creepy."

つ："I never thought about this stuff" "creepy…………………………" thinking

あ："I didn't either."

つ："oh? I thought you thought about this stuff a lot"

あ："I mean." "Like, specifically, with you."

つ："ah. oh no. not that. It wasn't my impression, of you. This."

"I owe Nene-chan a lot because now I get to kiss with you sometimes. Actually it's almost mean if something is exclusive to me. But I forgive everything"

あ：Humming. contemplative. rubbing wrist.

つ：rubs ankles with

あ："… it's funny. I've definitely thought this is all Yashiro's fault. But in an unflattering way. Like-- I never would be out here thinkin about kissing you if it weren't for her. And now I'm." …………………………… shakes head. "-- wait, but. You know. Before I met her. I did think about sex, but, it was almost… Abstract." …………………. why am I talking about this… is this that gay shit that Tsukasa and Yashiro do all day, like talk together

shrugs internally. "Like, I had to think about it." jerk off motions. "And yet. I didn't ever imagine myself with someone or… mn. Doing, anything, it was actually pretty gross. To. In that way, it'd actually sooner be us doing something." lol.

[rubs mouth with back of hand] "… I've had to think about this lately… because of everything. It's exhausting to think about, though. This is why I'm miserable all the time, by the way."

つ：wowwww the information…. the data!!!! briefly hypnotized by jerkoff motion and thinking about younger amane dah real shotacon in da chat

あ：screams

つ：more shotacon than yashiro

あ：every time tsukasa is made to think about young amane being sexual

つ：HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

あ：wait a minute. this is honestly cute though its like tsukasa is remembering a crush i loveded him

つ：aoaouuuouuuuhhhh that dreamboat 7 year old. cassanova walking me aroun the festival booths ordering me a candy apple. ruff

あ：[jenny voice THESE HUNKS] that hunk…. smelly from hot summer air young amane memories tsukasa has

つ："It looks pretty hard for you to think about." still sortof blank eyed thinking about sexuality feat Amane "I would have liked it any time" very simply said. spacing out "I didn't think about anything like that"

あ：[rolling hips. casually somehow.]

つ："I can now" tap taps shoe on ground hueuuehe

あ：[observing tsukasa like huhm.] "You definitely would have liked it any time."

つ：NOD NOD NOD un. un un.

あ：tashkani…

"And. It would've been laughably easy. To make you do anything." blinks. "If I wanted to just jerk off all day but into your mouth. It could've been that simple." reclines a bit. "I don't think I'd even have to say anything. Oh. If only I had known." [really dry tone.]

つ："aahaaha… ahg." curls in a little like a bug. "I wish," a word that rarely passes Tsukasa's own lips "I had known, too" hands…. pull uselessly at Amane's clothes, still around the stomach area of his gakuran. hh.. its so hard to keep everything Tsukasa knows inside of his own head-- things are constantly falling out, shuffling around. I think fantasies are genuinely hard to… produce? make room for? cobble together? he's got so many real memories to thumb through, past and present… it's so hard to piece together imaginary ones, he doesn't naturally do it at all. He's typically so content to thumb through memories or do more menial entertaining things like popping bubble wrap… he's so preoccupied with what's in front of him or what's happened. Freezes the programming…. to try to envision something that didn't happen. Feels like he's manually cutting pictures out of magazines with scissors and pasting things together out of sorts. Clumsy with the scissors

あ：[observes.]

It's rather entrancing to see… As, Tsukasa is often seemingly unflappable, even when Amane is frustrated, crying, throttling him, he really radiates this [infuriating…] pleasantness, like it all delights him. Just loves it all so much. Any sort of faltering is like, mn…. [Amane experiencing his own -praying mantis stare-] It's so interesting to hear him wish for something, pointedly, this isn't lost on Amane either… So rarely does Tsukasa ever direct want, like this… and yet, ah, it's not unfamiliar also, for Tsukasa to feel 'small' and like he got overwhelmed by something. Endearing.

[sadist lizard brain enjoys seeing struggle. objectively] [condescending comfort gland activates as well] … spurs Amane to reach up and ruffle hair, under the hat, affectionately. cup face, rub thumbs against cheeks.

"… it's a lot to think about, isn't it? Even for you." Piteous tone. tut tut…. smirks. "… you've never thought about it before, either, have you. Haha. I'm ahead of you…" it's me , your psychosexual brother. ❤️ "don't hurt yourself, now."

つ：ah, but Tsukasa isn't filled with struggle like Amane… just laughts, pants, enjoys the feeling of… vision blurring and brain fuzzy, words feeling farther away. "Ah… have you thought… about it? Before? I hav'n' thought, 'boutit" childish-sounding… as if trying to think about the past kindof gets him mixed up

as simple as Tsukasa doesn't know HOw to think about something like this…… ah, it's like he's not…. creative

あ：…………………….. [trying to not be wigged] ahaha. Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. yes. lol.

つ：stay cool

あ：I can't freak out right now. ❤️ Or I willf uckign kill you again [pretending to be a normal person] "Ohhhhhhhh. Yeah. Here and there. I have a lot of time. To think about things."

つ："You're amazing Amane!" so earnestly impressed and childish sounding

あ："Uhuh." [moves hands, to, direct tsukasa to start jerking him off.] [like. lets just.] griffin voice Can we please move on

つ：OH RIGHT!!!! here as well it's happening!! its so hard to juggle things!!!!!! grips hand around. But it's…. choppy, as if he's using bandwidth on… thinking… mmnrngnh

mnnnn its like [brain chugging] Amane… [envisions this age, but in his summer uniform] like that… nnn, wait, ah, wait [envisions… ENVISIONS….. ENVISIONS!!!! MMNNGGH… IN… YUKATA!!!!!!!!!]

あ：cute, honestly… like not doing a good job…. lol…

つ：obviously distracted… tsukasa's typical disease would be like. threatening to jerk your cock off your body so its pretty different he's usually pretty hyperfocused on it if anything

あ：It's not frustrating as much as it is like. kind of fascinating

つ：ENVISIONNNN…!!! mmnnn… wnrnnrngnmgg… sick… SICK BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MY PEA!!!!!!!!

あ：Hmm like.. Amane keeps hand overlaid, over wrist/hands, to assist

つ：SQUEEZING "can I," brain really trying "can I ?" uouh… "uah.. uhh…."

あ："… 'can you'….?"

つ："can I … " squinting "thhhink? Think about….. can we think about… uahh.. eh…n…." ah, what are… numbers ?? ages ?? how do I… ah brain is so deconstructed. it's flipping through too much… pulling up all the files. "sick… before I made you better…."

"Amane…. " it's so hard. it's like iits just amane it doesn't have another name….

あ：[staring…] Like… jesus

つ：your fucking. pedophile brother. its like the emotion for a second a fucking four year old? hello?

あ：like mn. huh? wait. lool……… Amane who is like thinking about when his cock manifested unto him

つ：don't even talk to me about extremities at age 4 may as well have barely had fingers. let alone

あ：What a moment to space out and be like -- whahuh ………………….. sick..? when i was sick… [thinking about the agonies]

つ：its like tsukasa not… having a regular sexuality does make this amane as applicable to hims brain as any, there's no puberty delineation "your… heart….." places hand over his chest

あ：really chewing on this one. you've made him so contemplative that he can't like be a jerk though i swear like . Can't make fun of you, it's just so strange… like oh tsukasa. ??? what dont i know about you, i thought you didnt think about sex for a long time. it almost feels paradoxical to be that far back, wouldnt you only do that if you were a horny 4yo lol

"… back then." starts gently.

"… quite a while back…. mn…" thinks… "… ah, the days, they were a blur even back then for me." shuffles. "… slept a lot… but also, was tired, all the time."

つ：nods…. nods…. bumps head to chest memories… of Amane's weak little heart beating in his chest… working hard. Pounding for nothing….. his lungs rattling as he wheezed….

あ："… waking up coughing. Couldn't see straight…" is just trying to remember what the body would have been like, factually. have to load in these details.

つ：nuzzles against him… his hand is still around him, but stilled. can't maintain thoughts and actions well

あ：It'ssss… an interesting place to be… Amane doesn't lose awareness of the hand wrapped around him. He's actually trying to marry all these thoughts and then the current sensation. "You know… even eating, hurt so much. You remember." hums… "… you'd have to move slow."

can't help being a LITTLE mean… "… I would be trusting you with a lot… to be careful." "… you could get too excited…"

つ：urrrughh!!! "I'D BE GOOD" "PLEASE!!"! ONEGAI its like hes there

あ：[feels like 20 emotions at once but somehow like feels arrogant at the end of this.] thats right beg…. to touch my cock…. it would be a privilege. "oh……. you'd be good…. you promise."

つ："MHMM!!!"

あ：lol… …………………………………………… it's cute, i guess.

つ："it would be liked? WHhow abouh-- howab, bout Tanabata? Tah-- in-- when we--" little pea going 100mph "then too, also, the-- one where-- the one in-- the one time, the…"

あ：wow look at him go. he's going so fast. Amane who is like still in the sick bed. like damn

つ：urg there were multiple festivals weren't there…. argh…. how do you delineate time?? I look at him my brain says AMANE!!!! it's 'amane' but it's 'specific amane'

あ："You sure you wouldn't be too distracted." "At Tanabata." bully

つ："your-- MOON! YUKATA" like he has 1 hand on a single detail. THAT ONE…… "NOT IF" "not if we were!!! doing something"

あ："I see." sou………. [thinks] "Ah- we did have matching yukata, didn't we, yours had the sun." [kinda sneers but says it anyways] "So sentimental…"

つ：nod nod nod nod nod

あ："Mm, it would be fine then, a lot less to worry about. No coughing. It'd be so easy to sneak off somewhere. We were just running around for hours, by ourselves."

"Honestly I feel like we could do it behind a stall or something. Who'd be looking."

つ："its romantic to kiss at Tanabata" reporting a fact he read somewhere

あ：UHUH?

つ：a magazine in a shop said this to me once and i remember it

あ：like amane's suddenly remember oh yeah stupid. the love holiday. fuck lol

つ：i think tsukasa. does consistently fsr contemplate kissing as a concept

あ：are we gonna FUCK on valentines day next

つ：you gonna remember what i wore on valentine's day.

あ："….. 'romance'….." "Is it romantic to suck cock on Tanabata, do you think."

つ："behind a stall, yeah, yeah…" distracted with the other thought line still… while amane is juggling that "MHM? IT'S A KIND OF KISS" "kiss, but elsewhere" "it's kissing."

あ：[raises brows] penisu kissu.

つ：its like ouhhg has tsukasa been thinking of blowjobs as kisses this whole time…. "it's kissing" again.

あ：maybe tsukasa really is still like 5 years old. andim the monster maybe

つ：might be true.

あ："I guess it is."

つ：sometimes amane has to feel like why can this guy wig me sometimes? am i just reactive…. so hard to remember everything he can freaking. do and say when he is like this.

あ：It's like hm…. maybe I just need to have a more resolute attitude Just focus and not get wigged

"Tsukasa… it's sounding like you just would love to kiss all day or something."

つ：NOD nod nod nod. press head into

あ：ohm…. it just feels so harmless when its like this though, whats the opposite of feeling like you're walking into a landmine. like we're at the kitty pool slow blinks [takes hat off. kisses head. out of pity.]

つ：he has it so bad… it is the same kind of pity one can feel for yashiro, really you dumb animals…..

あ：Like hm… as much as tsukasa talks about everything being fine and he couldn't ask for more. in moments like these it feels so, like, this poor animal. i think he's just too stupid to think about wanting stuff

つ：he just doesn't have the presence of mind now does he….. of course he'd LIKE more if he even thought about it

あ：i guess ignorance is bliss. i wouldnt want him like crying about wanting to kiss at tanabata or something maybe its for the best [resigned.] I guess, it would feel pretty good.

[generously, like throwing a fishbone to an alley cat] "We spent so much time running around the yard, you remember. It'd be pretty easy to sneak off behind the trees." "The property was so big. Lots of bushes, tall grasses…"

つ：THE TREES?!??! briefly visibly conceptualizes the yard and trees, hnnngh visualize

あ："So dense. All the flowers and everything."

つ："So pretty," experiencing it

あ："And who would think to look."

つ："so pretty… smelled nice…. we-- can-- do it by your favorites, the yellow ones?"

あ："… uhuh…" "… ambiance…"

つ：thinking about…. the smells of that Amane…. hot, warm, a fevered-feeling body, and then…. later….. how the heat felt it was leaving him…. like heat couldn't make it through his limbs. arms cold to the touch… sweat cold.

あ："The difference between spring or summer… early summer, late summer…."

つ：nods….. "when you could still go with me, and, then couldn't" "kiss…."

あ：pets back, shoulders. "Could kiss before you run off…" "Actually, I'd be shitty, and jealous of you getting to be outside without me. If we were doing something like this, I think I'd try and trap you with me." i know that bitch…

つ："aaoouuuhhh I don't have to fetch anything if I can use my self" touches lip with free hand. "if your favorite thing was me" this isn't meant to hurt him, but ….

あ：ahm… misery… [clutches fabric of kimono tightly for a moment] "-- hey…." "… c'mon." like. dont be like that.

つ：❔

あ："… it's not like you weren't…"

つ："AH. right!" it's hard…. it's odd, he just lapses back into the mental state… of thinking about 'things Amane likes'…. thinking of little bits n baubles

あ：[HUFFS…] "-- I didn't ask you to constantly bring me things…" "… It was." CMON MAN!!!!!!!! "-- nice of you. To. Like. You know. But you didn't have to."

つ：wide eyed looking at nothing…. thinking….. "It didn't do anything, mhmm"

あ：(it all is just going to sound 'bad'…….)

つ："--AH. FORGOT… WE'RE-- " GRIPS hand around again "sorry, sorry!! Distracting….!"

あ：fjdjgh dgh [WAKES UP]

つ：strokes a few times. ouhhh i forgot!!! still THINKING though…. it was smaller back then, wasn't it…!! it was smaller….

あ：Oh my god the experience. It's such an unintended rollercoaster. like fksdghdfj g h…. k …

つ："do you think it tasted different? Probably. You don't smell like you used to." rambling, looking at it

あ：[barking] "--TSUkasa." god do you make me so Ooh.

つ："when you were sick, your mouth smelled like medicine all day" "i smelled it a lot cuz you breathed hard next to me"

stroke… stroke stroke…. staring down at it, thinking "that stuff mom would put in your water… that powdery stuff. leafs? that stuff"

あ：[just trying to like roll with this all, focus on… in and out…] [closes eyes] "-- ugh, yeah, it was different." [uncontrollably like. baka.]

つ："we ate the same things all the time. it got different when you were sick. I drank it too once to know what it was like. it tasted real bad. Its fun to do all the same things."

mindless….. rambling "I wanted to smell like you were smelling, even though it was bad"

あ："I got sad when. It wasn't the same, all the time." "didn't feel fair and." frustrated, grabs his hands to direct faster. "--we couldn't sleep in the same room, anymore, either."

"I had to be in. pajamas. all day. we couldn't wear the same things all the time anymore." "… so when I got better, it's all I wanted to do." "The matching."

つ："Amane…." looks up at

あ：[winces] [looks away, licking teeth, like a nervous dog.] "What, does it surprise you. I'm. telling you." [shoves into hand…] "-- you were already. Mmh. Favorite." "-- it's. It can't be a surprise right." [rubs mouth, claws at face.]

つ：LAUGHS… "I know…. I know!! I know!!! I-- learned! I learned it… back then!" nnn nuzzles face "You don't… talk much! Hehe…. Like this….."

"its true, then, it's true… if it can happen now, it could happen any time… 'cuz its always true!"

あ："i know, i know, i know I don't…" incidentally parroting him like mgod i know i suck [closes eyes]

つ：he'm doesn't talk much about hims feefees ever❤️

あ：the emotion rn is so. UGhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. suki. FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ARE YOU HAPPY

つ：youuu stupid little idiot…. suki… moron

あ：stupid dummy tupis thg f…. i love yoh. OHHHHHHHHHHHHH is this what you all are crazy about

つ：this is why i cannot interact w you aruond nene its unconscionable she'd be all teary eyed too or something. unbearable

あ：gonna make me barf [come]

つ：2 gd puppies….

あ：I can't be alone with you because I feel like stabbing you and saying I love you…. It's a problem.

つ：we cannot coexist without it all coming back up like hay LEAVES hand from Amane, climbs onto him arms and legs instead, SQUEEZZZEEEEE its not good its misbehaving but i'm need to do'm it❤️

あ：sigh and yet I think it's so… [scrabbles, clutches] [despite the 💢…] ugh im here in the wild ride and its not stopping

つ：I like the thought of Amane just being like ugh….humps while holding like this.

あ：mindless continuation… i do like the energy of it

つ：eventually moves to a desk

あ：it is time to just get incoherent and be repeating names back and forth. haunt these halls i actually love how excessive it could be like entering the wee hours… the lighting in the room changing

つ：all the hours passing…. ah i love the idea, too. especially if like. at the time the school morning bell goes off its like KLFSJ;FKLS;JFSKDL;FJSKFL;FJSDKLF; for both of them

あ：we cant be like poltergeists fuckign in the classroom LFJKDKDK the bell goes off in the middle of the most like mindless activity like they're in the middle of necking

つ：devolving into repeating eachother's names in this position is sweet… reminiscing internally….

yes lolll like you're both in the throes of just relishing it and languidly touching, past the point of talking finally (amane RELIEVED)

and its like HIYEEEP . shit. SHIT but… drags tsukasa to his bathroom… sigh…. it doesn't… feel right to.. just separate to be like ok thats a wrap. go to your dungeon lets go.. hang out in my stall

あ：tsukasa starts holding your hand while you float there and its like. okay. this would be the funniest moment for nene to see them for 1 second but like they dont notice

つ：regression baby

あ：like down the hall

つ：like as they are absconding down the hall, she's in the distance like-- oh hana… ?k.. tsukasa….? d. do they. just hang out when i'm not around. what holding… hands??

あ：

what the h*ck!

つ：time to rush to the bathroom as soon as she's able to do so

あ：this is like the 4koma like. nene is like i NEED to understand and you hear sounds of fucking in that stall obviously

つ：and its like …………………………………………………………………………. i should respect them goes… back to class didn't know it was like that. .

あ：the way she has no perspetive and its like. i guess. this makes sense Hanako-kun jumps my bones sometimes alone so i.

つ：does not write any notes in class. yes. its like. well-- ok. i guess i just incidentally havent,, ran into it before it must simply go both ways … they do have all night…. they dont have to sleep, either

………………….maybe i dont need to pity tsukasa-kun so much in fact…..?? [thinks about if tsukasa just gets railed all night] is that why he's like that… so calm and content do i just get the daylight hours? what if its super fair actually godbless them….

あ：So Hanako-kun is just… idk… coy…. or something

つ：sf funny bc i feel like amane still humping tsukasa in the stall is just fully in his mindbroken state like uhgmgngmhhn i dont care if yashiro shows up actually fuck it ffffuck it all fuck it idc i'll do this until she comes here i'lfkd jsut kkeep doing wahtever I WANT TO DO I'M NOT HIDING THIS I'M NOT I WANT T [yashiro politely opens the general bathroom door, hears the noises behind a stall, leaves] none of these gd kids can hear me anyway FUCK IT1!!!!!

あ：Losing my fucking mind… I'll just be like that's right YOU SEE THIS? this is what I am this is what I feel, it's like THIS.

つ：YASHIRO CAN FIND US LIKE THIS I DONT CARE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I WON'T EXPLAIN ANYTHING ITS BEEN GOING ON FOR HOURS BUT YOU KNOW WHAT I'M NOT DONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WASTED TOO MUCH TIME TALKING I'M DONE!!!!!!!!!!!!! IG'M GTTA KEEP HIS MOUTH BUSY

あ：Lost too much mana taking psychic damage while being gay and vulnerable and shit Now its just like UGHHH let me come 100 times to get over it

つ：it's all loaded in finally as the anger i am familiar with agaim. got all tender there. hurt. i need to think with my cock again. for hours

あ：AND SAY MY NAME! SAY MY NAME. SAY MY NAME. SAY MY NAME. SAY MY NAME. SAY MY NAME. SAY MY NAME. SAY MY NAME. SAY MY NAME. SAY MY NAME. SAY MY NAME.

つ：its way too funny. it's so . incriminating. gkfl;gjkldf;kdhjklg;f its like . oh

あ：Exactly one thing could be happening in there

つ：tsukasa wailing AMANE, AMANE AMAAANEEEE AMANEEE AMANE. alternately clearly muffled by cock name its all like. a-ah….

あ：It's like you hear him calling Amane before being cut off by obviously being choked wjdgfd

つ：WHAM SLAM

あ：[hears them down the hall]

つ：k;dfjk;f its too funny. its like good thing akane has those glasses that make him a normal guy

sf funny bc idk when it comes time for like. lunch. amane would like stop. he'd be like ok but for real… yashiro is about to be available soon.

あ：rips you off of me like youre a leech

つ：recovers. does some stretches.

あ：You need to stop being my large boiling flask

つ：tsukasa flopped over a toilet im envisioning the facedown tsukasa in water

あ：Soo decimated

つ：finally wore out your dog

あ：It's like as much vitality as he is capable of, his little pea shouldnt vibrate that much for hours straight It's like a chip heating up in your brain going to cook it

つ：yes. he's simply had every thought too hard for too many hours. rattled excessively

あ：You need to go back to chewing on shoelaces or something

つ：the most energetic kid can't be like riding the same roller coaster for 8 hours

yashiro approaches the hallway… tentatively. asks kou to please not join her today. he's like …………………ok ….. she listens. no… noises

amane is picking his teeth when yashiro shows up up against a wall… like hiiiiii. [lord shen] …………hey. continues walking on in. sees open stall door. looks inside. sees tsukasa flopped unmoving like a corpse

あ：the most like how's class. [shuffling a deck]

whenever hanako is like this

つ："ah… its fine. Is Tsukasa-kun okay."

あ：It's sadly not reassuring for Hanako to be like "Huh. Oh………. yeah, he's fine."

つ：tsukasa lifts his arm shakily to do a peace sign at Nene descends it back down……….. "……….its nice to see you, Tsukasa-kun….. "

hanako-kun's libido…. is kind of scary to think about I-I guess he's… simply a supernatural…… and that's that…..

あ：That's right sweetie……….. In a way maybe Hanako is almost hoping this would be like -- and let that be a lesson to you all You freaks who ask me to just let loose

つ：think. about things. for once.

あ：think it through. I would run you all ragged

つ：all day Tsukasa will simply be like aahhmmm fantasies have opened up to me. i can think about any Amane and doing anything. limitless power

spacing out. unable to have conversations. makes nene feel kind of. scared. like… r-really… even tsukasa-kun can. wind up like. this. what did. they do

"ah, Tsukasa-kun… you seem out of it today. what are you thinking about?" soft pause. "Amane." "ah………………………I see….!"

あ：he has been further lobotomized there's not much left factually, all that is in tsukasa's brain after everything is indeed Amane.

I'm with him in the library under a table I'm with him at a restaurant we went to once . being pulled into the bathroom I can smell the food he ate

つ：takoyaki upon his breath……… candied apple,

あ：tsukasa mental state trapped , in like, i must be good…. ahhjnnmgmm

____________________

🔪FORK 2🔭

💮つ："Amane….." ah… playing with fire. "I wonder……… do you like some things…… being just between us?"

"I'd love to share everything with Nene-chan… she's a good girl. I think she deserves it….."

"….. but maybe it's a little hard to think about giving up?" "you were so resolute…. back then…"

あ：Thinking more.. I enjoyed where the more hesitant and meandering response went, it was fun… a pitiful Amane just feels in-line with how shutdown heems gets when faced with such a thing, I really think the sheer weight of emotions tied to Tsukasa/history leads to this completely arrested response

however…! i think it'd be fun to try and push it more, though, into something more forceful? decisive? but the result would be more chaotic as a result, haphazard, almost incoherent i think. like…boiling over…

つ：i'd be interested in a fork that is triggered in a different way yiss hmmm…

あ：A different heaviness… instead of feeling pinned in place by it oppressively, it's like [pops] … like something exploding in a hydraulic press

つ：ohhh EXCLUSIVE. IT HAS TO BE!!

あ：But I do think a part of Amane feels something along the lines of. UGHH PLEASE JUST LET ME BE INSANE AND SAY THE INSANE THINGS!! THE EVIL THINGS… I'M EVIL!!!!!!!!!!! like.. god… [rips out of him] YES

つ：THE ONE PLACE I CAN BE INSANE AND EVIL

あ：stoked by being reminded of how resolute he was-- like, yes, it's true. I was… it was…. my choice, and I loved making it, it was meant to stay between us. What I did… It was never intended to be about anything but, us. you and me.

Remembering what it felt like to be Amane then… the delirium, the confidence in his choice. I was never going to back out from it. It didn't matter if no one in the entire world understood-!

And, they never could… of course they couldn't… It's so difficult, it's like, Hanako in the present day remembers what it felt like to be Amane and think: I'll never regret it. Any of it… I'm staying here forever

つ：ah its so… mmmm❤️

あ：getting guttural… like… I can't give it up… I won't give it up I don't want to I was never GOING TO!

Hands were at Tsukasa's throat when being asked this… instead of going slack, just tighten… the protective, avoidant response is to hide, but if letting loose, the impulse is almost the opposite you know -- instead of running from being observed, desiring to look right into eyes… Like ohh look at me when I am talking to you like this

つ：you know what you're getting into asking something like that…

あ：It's almost like…… so , you want to hear it. You want me to just say it?

つ：ah would love Amane to be like. sigh. pulls out knife. Okay.

あ：If we are doing this

つ：if we're really going to talk about things she can't be around for.

あ：Mnnn yeah…. that which is forbidden…

Here we are again… though ah, isn't it crazy, by now Amane has become so familiar with this knife, it is his go-to weapon, he's like, proficient and confident wielding it now. it feels so ostentatious, where you are at with it, compared to sweaty shaking 13 year old self of the past adrenaline coursing to have picked up that knife the first time, now it's just a part of you

つ：it really is something he's flippant with. more easygoing with it in his hand than ever. kindof like… rolls eyes…. aouhhh am i gonna do it…. yeah, I am

あ：out here fiddling with it…

つ：an interesting gesture… would be to do a rough, quick cut, but only to cut tsukasa's shirt. just a slit over the heart-area…. not deep. he's good at precision with it, now

he really brandishes it so confidently while just swinging at kou. he knows when he will or won't make a cut with it.

あ：playful even lol like have at thee. knows what he is doing indeed. doesn't even have to think about it

Mm…. to immediately palm at the cut, fingers pressed to… in the past, there couldn't be such indulgence. Something like this… you couldn't stop to admire the handiwork

つ：a mood for. mmm fine. let's make it all exclusive stuff. the theme of this, then. I won't do the thhings we all …….share

for Tsukasa… I think he's just quiet. Happy to have set something off…. watching this response…. and drinking in the meaning of it. The air is different….. this atmosphere doesn't exist anywhere else.

its surprising, that Amane ISN'T shutting down… you could think of it as a dozen more plausible timelines he shuts down, and this one where some other muscle twitches and switches the track to this sort of thing. a risk…. a risky thing was said! but ahhh, it was…. a good decision

あ：mnn yeah I think about it like, high percentage of shut down and bowing out. but the right sequence was hit this time somehow, in some way, loosens something. And, it's just so relieving, almost, to lean into this, for once, the gravel and snow for decades has leant to this result. like ohh but i want it. i do. thats the problem . the problem always is that i want it.

becoming more sure with every gesture. This… is the specialness, the exclusivity. Declaring it out loud, speaking slowly, at length. "It has to be you."

"That's how this works, with us."

Ah, for once, Amane like very willingly putting himself back in the position, of being saddled atop Tsukasa. hand down, palm flat against sternum, heavily

But I like the thought of, like, there's more flourishes to it, things are a bit altered by everything… Capable of languid touches, capable of reaching back and walking hands along, clutch hip, paw at thigh.. interesting new flavors

つ：ah… breath quickened. very enchanted… capable of appreciating, how being with Nene has unspooled Amane a bit further. So tense and so barely on the edge of his indulgence, before….. this familiarity with his own body, ah, Amane never had it….. his weight is so decisive. It's a serene moment to feel grateful that…. he's still here, even if there's alterations… those alterations just apply to that which was true, before… ahhh…❤️ strokes wrist holding the knife….. tentatively reaches up and paws at the slit in his shirt….tilting head affectionately.

あ：Feels gooood to be Tsukasa… And rightfully so.

but, it feels good to be Amane, I think. Just in a terrifying way. I think it's so intense it's like, genuinely hard to keep things straight, reality. Maybe spending so much time focusing on being 'Hanako' has made him a bit vulnerable as 'Amane'. Want the brain to feel so sick and hot you almost feel like your body is alive, internal heat rippling. Soo scary. Even while this far into things, I do think there's a reflexive fear, have hackles instinctively raising to be here. It's like, ahhh danger… We've spent so long avoiding this man… Starting to get twitchy. But, continuing.

[dragging tip of knife down Tsukasa's chest, skirting against stomach slowly] [switch to gripping tightly, making quick slash that traces rib] A longer cut, tearing through kimono and button up. Something to really dart hands through the tears and finger the cut, pressing between the seams of flesh. I wonder if seeing the white fabric of button up mottle and soak red would also be like ssssahhh like the summer uniform… so simply evoked

Fingers getting bloody.. having the impulse to smear it across his own face grasping own neck

つ：the fabric sticking to his body once it's seeping…. !! Nostalgic!! Ah, it's even warm-- tilting head back to gaze out the windows…. it's a warm night, isn't it? everyone's been in their summer uniforms… Amane would be, too.

Ah, Amane is doing so many new things….. I should, too! Reaches forward, to grab the knife….. hand over Amane's on the handle. Brings it to his mouth, to lick it… along the flat of the metal, and over the top ridge. There's not a real heat or flavor… but from nothing but nostalgia, he tastes it at the back of his throat… the memory of how the blood began filling his chest cavity entirely… how it crawled up his neck and poured into his mouth. ahhhh… he can't feel that again. no lungs to puncture and fill with blood… no heart to flood the cavities… but…❤️

thinking though of licking the knife ah, spurring Amane to…. on a pure impulse, just cut through his cheek-- and maybe regret it, actually. stomach turning…. actually extend tsukasa's mouth, tear the side open. then feel, sick. it being a quick, rapid, impulsive move is the triggering part. and tsukasa's response IS to quickly curl inward and grab his face. A-AHHH

the knife is itself a sort of supernatural tool…. like Teru's blade and such, it can interface with things authentically, I think.

some whining and whimpering from Tsukasa, feeling blood collect in his palms, slip through his fingers…. the pain is real. hurts to smile

あ：I like something so dramatic, it's just like-- we're inviting harm, here.

I think in a normal circumstance Amane would feel something along the lines of UGH I TOLD YOU-- THIS IS WHY-- etc. but there's a different protocol running, we're not being fussy rn-- that wasn't the tenor of the murder. It was intimate. Just rushing forward, overlaying hands on Tsukasa's and cupping his face. Shushing, shhh shhh.... Stroke, pet, rub face against. Repeating, gently, "Tsukasa, Tsukasa, Tsukasa..." shh shhhh...

"You're good, you're doing good." inhales deeply. Can feel iron tinging his nostrils, like blood is everywhere, in the air. Licks roof of own mouth, swallows. Tinny taste to the air. "You're doing what I need-- you love that, you love to be what I need."

Hurriedly moving, on impulse, not quite thinking anything through, just seeming rather. Frazzled, crazy. Peeling off gakuran jacket, left in just his white button up, taking off his hat. Taking off Tsukasa's hat. Running fingers through hair.

"Look at me. Just keep looking, okay?"

つ：hypnotism.... eyes glaze and unglaze, glassy, pupils trying to retain capacity, feeling like Amane is speaking underwater and he wants to come up for air.... ahhhss. so nic.e... Amane is nice... Amane is nice to you. He talks to gentle.... he is so sweet. His petting hands, his kind voice, always leading this foolish idiot around.... need to be lead around. Don't know what to do with himself otherwise. Lead carefully by the song of Amane's voice..... Finally, finds his pupils in the haze. Those eyes... more elegant, than his own. Looking in the mirror never produced Amane... wrong, the eyes all wrong.... that somewhat-darker gaze of his, shadows of his lids, that, softer look....

"Ohkg, ghay,Ohkay. Amahhnne. Ahmma ne....!" claps a wrist loosely-- he's feeling weak-- placebo effect, immersion, or can the knife do that?-- On exhales, feeling air slightly ruffle the opened skin of his cheek, like a curtain on a vague breeze... still streams blood. "I-Li'kghh lookg, loogking, lookkging at you..... I liegke you." combating blood around tongue and the cut preventing a good seal on pronunciation.

あ：Winces, but expression softens, like, ah... The affection Tsukasa could feel, even in a situation like this. It almost felt... no, it was exploitative, to tell him what to do, knowing he would listen; he was malleable and easily worked into a direction. You could just tell him, 'you love this' and because it was coming from Amane, it would be the truth. Tell him, 'you're okay' and he is. A pitiful creature, in that way, always was and has been.

"That's right," Amane breathes out, almost a hum, voice vibrating a bit. Affirming.... "You like me." Pets hair more, brushes hair out of Tsukasa's eyes, rubbing the skin around them, tracing the bone of the eye socket. "Just focus on that. Focus on me."

Takes a deep breath and tries to collect himself... Rubs the accumulating sweat on his cheeks, brow. The air feels so humid, sticky and wet along the skin. So different from blood, the way it clings, seals over skin, the thicker consistency slowly dripping down. He could feel it drying against his own lip. Staining his hands.... The deep, vivid red, eating away all the white of their clothes. He reaches down and shoves the heel of his palm against the cut across Tsukasa's chest, over his heart. He pulls it away and holds his palm out for Tsukasa to see, an inch away from his face.

"It's pretty," he breathes, a long unspoken thought. It always felt too sick, or too pointless to say, an emotion someone could never feel, or maybe so mundane he might as well be commenting on the color of the sky. But Tsukasa took well to Amane explaining the most basic facts, if he put a certain tone to his words, instructional in nature. "Isn't it pretty? ... and special, to see so much. Like this." Opening, closing palm.

"... nice to see again. It was... so much, last time. All... everywhere, seeping into the-- the flohr." Slurring, swallowing, palms slapping clumsily around the floor around Tsukasa -- dragging against the floorboards, outlining his body.

"Haha." the grain, the tooth of the wooden floorboards... "Hahah..."

natsukashii.... under breaf

つ：watching avidly, as close as he possibly can. Pretty....? What a word....! A word you may use for... a nice kimono's print, or, a girl.... for blood. What a kindness.... this messiness, ah, messiness is pretty, isn't it? Amane looked best smeared and soaked like this, licking his lips. So nice. It's true that whatever Amane says, like this, he'll agree to. There's no consideration of otherwise. If he hadn't thought of something before himself, he was just too stupid to.

Ah.... the floor.... it was so much last time, it felt like laying in a stream which pours thinly between the rocks....

A concurring natsukashii.... echoed in a pleasant tone, only frayed a bit by the compromised mouth.

"Prid-tee..." a large, labored exhale. "AAhhmmaneeee... Iyy, likge whadt's juhs for mmmme...." pawing at his white shirt, watching his fingers leave marks and prints all over it. streaming a finger down, making a line, mindlessly scrawling like a child fingerpainting. His mouth is held agape... it has to be.... a small laugh.... a small whine? He moves to stroke his own cheek--the seal marking it-- with one hand-- and the other clutches his chest, as he faintly moves to-and-fro like a fish swimming in water. Seems..... intoxicated. Curls his palm up against his cheek, then pushes it up to his head, looking... overwhelmed. Painfully, his mouth tightens, and hisses as a result. Palm in his shirt seizes the fabric and shakes it about in his grip. Some strained weird sounds... nnngh, hhnn, mnnnnhnn, nnnnn, and his shoes shuffling around on the floor. So much... too much. Overstimulated. Boiling over.

あ："That's right." It hurts like a confession, despite the sureness of his own reply. Rattling around in the chest, knocking against everything, bruising every organ. "I do."

The kicking, squirming, is drank in attentively, eyes lidded while combing over the body. Appreciation for the form, the expression of struggle. The sight, the sound, it was pretty. Amane bastes in his own proposal. The sense of purpose granted by this all... It was happening, that sort of-- bizarre, inappropriate, yet divine sense that he was doing something kind, charitable, necessary. Imbuing Tsukasa with purpose. Even the whines were testament; Tsukasa's voice was suited to pleading, more eager to hit high, keening notes, he didn't struggle or hold back. Unlike himself, which often felt his throat stubbornly sealing, shutting, refusing noise, only letting it pass in the form of a groan, something unpleasant and low.

"What's just for you..." he repeats under his breath... before dropping closer, grasping Tsukasa's face decisively and granting access to the cut on his cheek. Forcing himself to interface with it instead of running away, and submitting to an urge, Amane laps his tongue against it. It isn't graceful, it can't be by the very nature of it, yet it feels as though it goes by in a lovely, smooth way. His fingers keep Tsukasa's mouth pried open by hooking against his teeth. His tongue skims his canines as he does. Pulling away, Amane speaks right against Tsukasa's mouth, hardly moving from being flush against. "I do, like it, I." breath heaves. "I- lllllovvvve it." ... a word that only seems to strum out of him in moments like this, this warped. But it felt the most sincere like this too.

つ：kicking is the first response, pattering along the floor, rapid-fire as he was furiously burying any sort of fleeing response to the invasive attention to his mouth, channeling all energy there. And then more haphazardly, dancing one-foot-after-the-other like piano-keys compressing playfully, a squeezed note escapes his throat. Feels like a canister of air pops in Tsukasa's brain. Childishly, like a kid begging to be pushed on a swing more, Tsukasa chants through all obstruction. "ahg-gah-- Ahg-gem! AM--mmohrre! aAmmah-eh! AGAIh--AGAIIHH-UNN" kick-kick, wiggle, sway, like an eel under a palm. Giggling.

あ：A very palpable shudder goes throughout Amane, buzzing. Feels tazed, prodded to respond-- holds Tsukasa firmer, by the jaw, before dipping down again. Tongues more decisively, presses pointedly at the edge of the cut, bows the skin there. Presses against it from the outside, against cheek skin, then dips inward, the wet tissue of inner mouth. The difference in the textures noted... His hips shimmy -- he's excited, too, he's. Horny. It stings, between his legs, he's wary of resting his pelvis on Tsukasa unconsciously. But is too enraptured in prying the wound with his own fingers, digging the pad of his finger against it, fluidly transitioning into rubbing gums and tracing teeth. Invasive!! Strange, strange touches.

It's not directed or sensual. Feels more like an examination

Obsessing over textures...

つ：feeling examined is goooooooooooooooood ❤️ he really wants to loook touch aahhhhhh ❤️ kick, kick wiggle kick..... feels so good to bbbeee, under the microscope, Amane's attentive gaze... he can look into the sky and point out the tiniest specks by name. Like this.... pressed under him, touches all so particular... Tsukasa could believe that Amane didn't need the moon and stars. Really. That it wasn't just something he said. There wasn't a sensation of envy for Nene-- but-- for the telescope... there, was, something. This object Amane could fiddle with in his fingers, look into for hours.... tweak, tilt, clean, keep pristine, hold always carefully. Ah... there was maybe some reason to feel it, then. There wasn't any competing with the promise of the entire sky... endless... sprawling.... something that impressive, thats what it took to captivate Amane... stars..... galaxies... where, ah... he thought he wanted to escape to.

Whining, whimpering. Tsukasa perhaps... has just a few things, difficult to think about. Memories of a sense... of being a burden, dragging Amane down to the Earth, where he'd look away from everything. That blink of time. But luckily... he's only remembering now, as it's disproven, just as it was, then. Amane's watchful gaze... fingers and tongue, navigating him every bit as carefully as the knobs on his telescope.

he never looked this excited.... not in the same way, over any light in the sky. Gave him butterflies..... it was so kind of Amane, to look down at him, when he could always look up. He was meant to look up.

Mmm... he tears up. "Ah-mahnne, Amanne, Ah, Aha, Ahmane...." muttering around his ministrations. So nice. So nice to be studied. Soooo nice.

あ："Tsuukasa..." gentle, easy reply, it's getting easier to inhabit the moment and let things out freely. The urge to be playful even rises up, "Tsu, tsuuuu... ka-sa." Nearly singsongy for a moment. Ah, feels, embarrassed, but not the right degree maybe, it makes him fluster and laugh, like he's just being childish-- not like he's, bent over the bleeding body of his younger brother. "Have you ever thought about..." rambling tone, reaching around mindlessly for his knife, which he had set down a moment ago-- at first tapping the ground, wrapping fingers around the handle. "... how your name, sounds like the word for 'the moon'... The tsuu sound, it's fun to say. Tsss...uu. But, the ka-sa is softer than ki... It trails off." Speaking lovingly, while tilting Tsukasa's head back, and using his middle and index finger to push open his mouth, widely. Dipping in and holding Tsukasa's tongue, firmly, pulling it out. "It suits you. The softer sounds."

Clutching his knife, he carefully touches the tip of the blade onto the center of Tsukasa's tongue. The dull curve of it bumps against his front teeth, pushed by the full shape of the knife. Amane lingers and observes the pooling drool sliding down his fingers, spilling past Tsukasa's lips. It's a decisive, controlled cut, down the center to the tip of his tongue. He immediately releases his knife in a clatter, hands flying to clutch either side of Tsukasa's face, shoving his tongue fully into his mouth. Sucks, pulls the blood into his mouth and swallows.

Antsy hips sink, resting finally against Tsukasa's body. His legs straddle him firmly.

つ：impossible-- IMPOSSIBLE how Amane was!!! Ah!! He could do everything!! The, enrapturing-- comparison-- his name to the MOON!-- so enrapturing, he can't deduce whatever Amane is doing, whatever he's leading up to. Swirling in his head are leetle stars. Aaahhh, so kind....! He's moved this way and that. Tongue drying against his fingers. So nice... so nice. Kind, Amane.. thinking kindly. So smart, thinking so smartly, thinking of so many things.... ! Thinking of things, and me.....

The cut is sudden, and he's not prepared for it... his body seizes, fingers gnarl, knees raise, stomach tenses, but he's held in place by the head like a horse in a halter. Everything moves and for a second, the flee response has no time to be clamped-- clumsily, dumbly, his palms smack against the floor, splashing flecks of red. First inward, than outward, his spine curves, and Amane follows him every direction, dipping lower and pulling higher, latched. His tongue slides into the cut like soft sashimi, the muscle is weak and limp against all of his activity.

He could do things... just like this. Just like this... combine, things. Conceptualize combining things. This message! A special message! The nicest words, the most interested motions--!! All to say something, and, Tsukasa would listen!! He would listen to every note of it! Like this-- talking like this-- he missed it... so much. Amane could talk like nobody else.... just like this.

あ：A moment to just appreciate the scene... it's like everything really is blending together, past and present... but in a fluid way, like, as if their past selves are inventing kissing, in a strange way. blood pooling in their mouths... tonguing the wound obsessively.. swallowing between each other... Amane hiccups, huffs laughter dryly. It ffffffffffffeeeelslslsss goood....Manic emotions. grabbing Tsukasa by the shoulders and swaying side to side, jostling him along with him, hmm, haaa, rolls them onto their sides. Bites tongue..

it's just like aghh.. i feel good... I FEELLL good ifeel good.. [stupidly] i like feeling good hahahhaaaaa what the fuck... I feel like i could almost forget why it's terrible

Oh to pretend...

What if I just got really good at lying to myself...

つ：tsukasa has this power. just live in the moment for a biit… forgetting everything else. i like the manic atmosphere… with a Tsukasa more like, ah, reactive to the pain-- more flinching and twitching and grasping at shirt, while Amane is very loose and limber and flopped… Tsukasa relaxes intermittently, but Amane throws curve balls whenever he pleases

a real like ahhhh❤️❤️ starts to slack IS BITTEN FKDLSJFKL aAAA ssslacks again mmmm ❤️ kismsmmm..

あ：playing. playful. it's like at their peak mutual craziness it can be like hehehhug..h ahhg…. They are both playful boys

つ：kicky our legs around togever

あ：To be filled with so much whimsy… it's kind of like being reunited for real

Chasing urges as they come-- just getting more excited as they manifest like. ahhh amane flipping, straddling Tsukasa's stomach and facing his legs, hiking past hakama and getting to thighs and making cuts along those, and then mouthing, biting those. it's like mghj… while i'm here… keep having thoughts, new thoughts! excitingly new… i've never had these before

つ：HIYAAAAAAAA!!!! hachi-machi

あ：It's even fun if Tsukasa bucks and twists, it's like… wrestling down an alligator or soemthing lol like REALLY grinds weight down and holds in place [psycho murderer thoughts] thats right… struggle

つ：the legs are a tricky one… they do wanna be kicky expressively. its like eeheheehee

あ：gets knee smashed in face lol

つ：WAUGH. also for a moment: aouh blood on my hakama….. like woh! dirty too… wow its all dirty

あ：getting so dirty

つ：mm a nice scene, blood on his knee and smeared over Tsukasa….. take a moment to stand up and look at it and it is. a horrifying spectacle

really looks like a crime. Don't think they could call this a shinjuu, investigating the scene. if it were one. they'd just call it some sort of homicide.

あ：something funny about amane getting like a nosebleed or something for a second from tsukasa compulsively excitedly kicking like lol those sort of scuffs one gets from a struggling body. lool……….. oh me too laughs crawls to tsukasa's face

つ：being like O.O briefly when contacting hard enough to give him a nosebleed. back of hands to mouth awooop…..

あ：amane in that kind of reprehensible whore body language way he gets. [points to self, eyes squinting] lick [barks] do that freak shit you do [says this guy.]

つ：ahhgmmm awwwooooofof!!!! crawls up. skitters palms around on wet floor trying to upright. hands and knees licking nose blood

a nice reduced tsukasa just eating it on the floor for a second. make amane go 'awe' he is like that.

あ：tilts head while smiling with eyes leering mmmmmmh. my stupid… hey dummy youre just a dummy demon arent you

つ：its cute to think of Amane like… just ambiently hard the whole time, but not in a way even tsukasa particularly notices or keeps in mind, or he acts on…. this is our weird time. I wish we had any intel on how like. healing works for the spooks…. we just. don't know. amane gets so fucked up by teru on the train but is-- fine? when dealing with nene? right after?

あ：in my mind it is true to reality (amane was ambiently hard during the murder) just something happening

i wonder if its a matter of damage being sustained like continuous damage… tsukasa's cheek cut stops bleeding fairly quick in hell of mirors and seems minimal

つ：i like to think tomorrow amane will be like extra patient and chill and serene with nene to a scary degree. exfoliated

あ：lmaoo… seems like zen

つ：-is a better boyfriend than usual-

あ：He's just playful and open seeming

つ：the be a better boy initiative VS be a badder brother initiative

あ：the toukan koukan. of it all If I just unleash my demons i can be goodddd….

I keep thinking, like. its somehow so pleasant to think about hanako being verrry ambiently hard and a litlte bit like drip. drip… but like neither of them is very conscious of it this rly isl ike. my ideal pervert HC of what occurred during shinjuu. that tsukasa and hanako are just like idk we feel good rn so funny to think about hanako having normal sex later

つ：feeling soooo good no need to draw attention to it.

あ：alive sex with my alive gf

つ：just normal sex.

nene is like hanako-kun is in such a good mood today….. tsukasa is like. quiet ? just seems not so rowdy but not sad just like. looking around pleasantly. in hims own head does not interrupt your sex he's just like much to think about.

あ：fingers steepled it's like tsukasa cannot think much about normal sex like this [licking inside of cheek wall] It's just nice to smell cock and pussy in the air [sits amidst it]

つ：that is his whole day. rubs. shirt. rubs hakama.

あ：he's trying very hard to memorize things amane said. doooon't forget.

つ：at any moment just sortof mouthing tsssuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu….. ki. Tsuuuu-ki. Tsuuuuuu… kasa. Tsuuuuuuu… ki… Tsuuu…

nene is like ah…. tsukasa-kun is very preoccupied. but he looks ? tranquil… so

あ：it's just interesting to see… make sure to like, sit with him, and chat a littel later. but i do think it's like there is a haze about him. he doesn't have much language. in his head [the kanji for moon and his name floating around]

つ：oh its like. [nene asks him what he's thinking about today] [long, long pause, so long she doesnt know ifshe should repeat herself] tsu-ki. and tsu-kasa. sound a bit similar if you think about it

………………………….. uh huh

あ：…. I suppose so!

つ：blinking like alien amane told me that.

! oh? I see….!

あ：A-aw….. that's… so sweet….!

つ：un.

あ：[knows vaguely amane is. kinda weird? about the moon??? its liek her brain flashes her his PP moon pin and then the lunar rock yorishiro memory] [doesnt. know what to think about this besides: he … lieks it]

he likes the moon i know this well………………… it seems the boys had some sort of… pleasant conversation

and like. well.

つ：hanako threw him a bone it seems…. thats nice…. is that why… HE feels good………? detective in a lazy way i guess they chatted…. good

あ：feeling ah, like he did a good deed or something… well thats ok, as long as they both feel good [somehow nene having some sort of. woke thought]

#22 #ghosties #i #+

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 2 years ago

Text

Lena somehow expects the shadow in her apartment less than she expects the fist that collides with her temple. Honestly, it's been a while since her last assault so really, she had it coming. But what shocks her the most when she comes to bound to one of her kitchen chairs is the face who stares back at her.

Well. Glares back at her, anyway.

Her own eyes study her from her doppelgangers position by the windows, hard and calculating. Jesus. Lena can only hope she herself doesn't go that heavy on the eyeliner.

"So you're the one."

Not-Lena's voice is low, almost gravelly. Lena recognizes it as the tone her own voice sounds when she's about to cry, but the dark eyes regarding her are dry.

"Excuse me?" Lena clips back.

"You're the one she wanted to save."

Lena doesn't need to ask to know who 'she' is. Who else on this planet has had a recent encounter with a duplicate of herself? The knowledge burns low in Lena's chest.

Supergirl. Somehow, it's always Supergirl.

"You don't seem surprised to see me," her counterpart says.

Lena doesn't deign to answer, instead posing a question of her own.

"Did Lex make you too?"

In a flash, her double's features harden to ice even as sudden rage burns in her eyes. She marches towards Lena and grips Lena's jaw tightly, hard enough to bruise. Lena fights back a whimper of pain.

After a moment, Lena is released with a small push, nearly tipping her chair backwards. With a measured step her counterpart retreats a single step, head tilting laconically to one side.

"You have Mother to thank for this." With her free hand, Lena's counterpart reaches up and pulls down the collar of her sweater-- one pilfered from Lena's own closet-- to reveal the polished surface of a kryptonite shard buried in her chest. Lena's own chest tightens at the sight. "Though Lex played his part getting me under her knife."

"Metallo," Lena breathes. Her mind races to put the pieces together. Manufacture isn't out of the question, but Lena senses there's more to it than that.

"You've encountered something like this before," her double observes.

Lena nods. "Yes-- but not me. The assassin Lex hired to kill me."

Finally, Not-Lena's features twist into a morbid smirk. "So she already did save you. Supergirl."

Lena gives a single nod. As bitter as she is that her supposedly best friend got one over on her, Lena can't deny the many times Kara has saved her.

She watches her counterpart turn away, returning to her stance in front of the windows, this time gazing out at the cityscape beyond.

"It's different," Not-Lena observes. "I hardly remember what it was like, before..."

Curiosity piques, tickling Lena's brain. "Before what?"

A sigh answers her. "The end of the world." Not-Lena turns back to face her. "I brought it back from the brink-- along with a team of carefully selected allies. But the damage was already done."

An alternate reality then, Lena surmises. If she herself was so changed by changed events, then Lena could scarcely fathom what her doppelganger's world might look like. Despite her desire to learn everything about that distant world, Lena forces herself to return to the matters at hand.

"Will you let me loose?" Lena twists her hands against the duct tape pinning her wrists to the chair she's sitting in. "Or are you planning to single white female me?"

A satisfied smirk curls her double's scarlet lips. With deliberate strides she closes the distance once more, this time to bend and reach for the tape binding Lena to the chair. Before she can rip the tape away, Not-Lena freezes, her ear cocking towards the open balcony.

"She's coming."

Shit. "Quick, let me-- hey!" Lena protests as her counterpart grabs the back of the chair and drags her effortlessly towards the nearest closet. Lena is shoved in among the coats, chair and all.

"Stay silent," her doppelganger warns. "Or you'll both die."

The door closes before Lena can issue a retort. Not that she's sure she'd have anything to say-- she wants to know how the impending confrontation is going to play out.

She hears the muffled whoosh of Kara's arrival, the thud of heavy boots on the concrete balcony. If Lena's counterpart says anything, Lena doesn't hear it. But she hears Kara loud and clear.

"I know you don't want to see me, but I have something to say."

Oh. Oh. That's not Kara-- that's Supergirl, all pompous authority and brassy command. The fact Kara doesn't even have the courage to come and speak to her as Kara Danvers makes Lena bristle with anger. It reminds her of the way Supergirl condemned her for the harun-el research, and the memory of Kara Danvers' smiling visage through all of it feels like sandpaper on an open wound.

"I made a mistake," Supergirl delivers firmly. "I was wrong to keep the truth from you. I know that. But the past is the past."

Lena scowls in the dark shadows of the closet. The past is the past. Funny how it's always the offender who says that first, rarely the victim.

"I made my choice," the hero continues. "And you're making choices of your own-- to not forgive me, to work with Lex... I'm done blaming myself for your bad decisions--"

The monologue pauses sharply. Lena waits for it to resume, as does her counterpart.

"You were saying?"

Not-Lena sounds almost exactly like Lena. So like her, in fact, that if she weren't the one in the coat closet Lena might assume the woman on the balcony were the real deal.

"Is someone here?"

"What makes you say that?"

In her mind's eye, Lena can almost see the crinkle between Kara's eyebrows.

"N-nothing. Just-- something seems... off."

"Well, if you could wrap up whatever you came here to say, I'd like to get back to my evening."

"R-right. I just--" Pieces of Kara Danvers peeks through Supergirl's facade as she stumbles to get back on track. "I came here to tell you that from now on-- you're accountable for your own actions."

Lena's stomach drops out from under her. It seems a part of her had still clung to a shred of hope that Kara would somehow know the magic words to heal them, to make everything right. Instead, Kara is washing her hands of it all-- washing her hands of Lena.

"If you continue to go down this path, if you go through with whatever you and your brother are planning-- I will do everything in my power to stop you. Just like any other villain."

Villain.

Lena can barely breathe. Her chest is tight with undefined emotion, the shadows blurring the tears in her eyes. To hear that word from Supergirl's-- no, Kara's-- lips, after everything that's happened.... Lena doesn't know whether to feel angry or heartbroken, and so she feels both together, intermingling in a twisting mess of rage and anguish.

How dare she--

"Is that all?" Lena's double drawls, a far cry calmer than Lena ever would be. If nothing else, meeting her doppelganger is worth it if only to save face when Lena herself wants to lash out at anything within reach.

"You're not Lena."

The accusation comes so sharp and so suddenly it nearly gives Lena whiplash. In the midst of eavesdropping, she'd forgotten the ruse of it all.

"Excuse me--?"

"You don't have a heartbeat." In an instant, Supergirl's voice had dropped into a threat, danger dripping from her words. "What did you do to her?"

Lena doesn't see her counterpart's reaction, but her next words are calm and slow, no longer Lena's own cadence.

"Do?" Ah. Lena hears another smirk. "Why don't you ask her yourself?"

The closet door is thrown wide, and Lena blinks briefly against the light as her double easily drags the chair back into view. Lena is plopped down in front of the balcony doors and a Supergirl whose anger quickly shifts into concern.

"Lena--!"

"Stay away from me."

Supergirl halts, hands outstretched. She retracts them hesitantly. "Lena, I--"

The hero takes a conciliatory step forward.

"Take a single step past that threshold, and I won't be responsible for the consequences."

A warm hand settles gently on her shoulder. Lena doesn't have to look up to see her counterpart pull down the collar of her sweater again. She can hear the crackle of energy sparking to life in the kryptonite, feel the faint heat of it charging. She sees the way Supergirl physically recoils.

"Lena..."

Lena squares her shoulders as though she were sitting on a throne, not bound to a chair.

"As you said," she issues past the lump in her throat. "You made your choice. It's time I make some of my own."

Supergirl draws herself up, regaining her composure. She made her bed, and it seems she's willing to lie in it.

"If you choose to forgive me, I will be here for you," Supergirl delivers firmly. "But if you--"

"Yeah. Villain. I heard."

Kara at least has the decency to blush, hopefully in shame.

"Leave," Lena delivers firmly. Her jaw firms resolutely. "Don't come back."

Supergirl gives her a final long look before lifting off into the night sky. Lena waits a beat, then two, before turning her attention back to her counterpart.

"Now let me go--"

Before she knows what's happening, a hand is around her throat. It squeezes, not enough to choke, but enough to let her know it's still an option.

"What could possibly compel you to work with Lex?"

Lena swallows thickly. "He's a means to an end."

"You're a fool--"

"I've been telling myself that for months." Lena glares at her doppelganger. "I have my reasons. It doesn't mean I trust him."

Yet again, Not-Lena releases her with a small shove. This time the feet of the chair squeal sharply against the hardwood. But she does reach down and rip through the duct tape with ease, freeing Lena and allowing her to rise.

As she stands, peeling the remaining tape from her skin as she regards her double. "What are you planning to do?"

"I have no intention of staying here, if that's your concern."

It is, but Lena is careful not to let her relief show. "With more information, I can get you home."

Her double scoffs. "So can I. But first..."

"What," Lena prompts.

Her counterpart turns, revealing a dark glint in her gaze that makes Lena's blood run cold.

"First, I'm going to kill our brother."

#supercorp #metallo!lena #100th episode au #ficlet #its a little long #not sure if its done or not #but here it is anyway

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peakyblindersxx · 4 years ago

Text

whiskey business - john shelby x reader (part 6 of ?)

gif by my queen @michaelgreys, i'm basically her fanblog now but im not mad about it :) i mean just look at him!!1! i almost fainted

a/n: first of all, if you stuck around to this point, tysm for reading!!! this has been one of the most amazing fics ive ever been a part of and it's all thanks to the gorgeous @stxdyblr-2k, who generously took control of the next few parts. her brain is beautiful and we all owe her flowers or something. when i read what she sent me i couldn't bring myself to change much except for some small edits, so pls give her lots of love if you like it!!!! i'm still working on requests as well :)

love, abi xxx

read part one two three four five | my masterlist

tagging: @datewithgianni, @mayaslifeinabox, @deepdonutkid, @springsoulofengland, @lilymurphy03

prompt: nothing this good can last forever. john doesn't know how to feel, and neither do you.

warnings: nsfw! a teensy bit of smut, angsty as fuck prepare yourselves accordingly, a lil fluff if u squint, yeah this fucked me up

Obviously, it wasn't the last time.

Over the coming months you had many last times; his mouth pressed against your neck said as much. As his responsibility at work increased, you'd find yourself heading to his office after your lectures and night classes more often, perched on his lap, smoking, while he finished up his numbers under your critical gaze.

Thomas was more than aware; his snarky comments made it obvious he had his ways of monitoring your actions. You'd seen the dark car lurking outside your rallies and lectures, and no matter how you'd try to throw him off, not even telling Ada where you were going and even, in a moment of desperation, through your neighbours back window, somehow, his silent shadow was still looming. He was practically begging you to make a mistake, to give everyone an easy out. You just couldn't give him the satisfaction. You knew Tommy saw the world as a chess board, always several moves ahead of his opponent. Even when you played him in chess club all those years ago, you could outflank him if you thought on your feet and kept him thinking he was winning until you obliterated him in the end game. It was brutal, sure. But as he told you, there were bigger games at play. You had your own. Thomas could read your mail, intercept your phone calls and have you followed, but he couldn't hear what you said out of earshot. Your lot could smell an interceptor in your ranks, so spying at that close of a proximity was out of the question.

That's why he'd decided to let you have John. You knew his silent approval and his constant management of the narrative meant he saw a tactical gain. There was only so much information he could get from Ada, but John? He just had to agitate him in the right way and all your secrets would come tumbling out. It was difficult hiding your world from John; of what he knew of, he was supportive, quizzing you over current affairs and political discourse, listening intently. Yet, you had to watch your mouth. You had to keep a barrier up and you knew John sensed the distance. Fundamentally, there was nothing either of you could do.

So here you were, in a comfortable limbo. Your days were filled with work, evenings were for lectures and reading groups at the city's university, Ada and you often stopped for a drink or three; you'd go by your flat to freshen up, and then to John's office. Sometimes, you wouldn't visit for a week or so when the guilt sent you over the edge, it was draining to be living so many lives and knowing you were betraying the person you loved most on earth. Ada was oblivious, taking you on her nightly adventures filled with men, dancing and waiting while she was busy kissing in dark corners. Sometimes a young blinder would ask if you wanted to be walked home. The first occurrence you thought was sweet, but as the nights it occurred coincided with nights John seemed extra pent up, you'd decided to ask. The boy, who couldn't be older than twelve but who you knew was trained in using firearms and had a revolver pinned to his hip and a razor in his cap, looked confused.

"Mate, it's not a tough question. Why do you come and ask?"

"There's a phone call." He shrugs, "Isaiah or Michael tells us to go and get you."

Isaiah and Michael were somewhat aware? Fucking hell. Your fling was basically a military campaign at this point, so many of your friends were complicit. The little lads who ran as messengers around Birmingham were complicit. You had to just end it.

But when you sat on his thigh, his chin hooked over your shoulder, it felt so worth it. He never turned you away when you came crawling back. He never mentioned it until after you were finished, hooked under his arm.

"Fucking missed you, gorgeous."

Sometimes he'd remind you not to be a stranger with a wink, but you could tell it was tearing him apart too. He never once came to you. That's how he could justify it in his mind; obviously, the bare minimum was not having sex with his sister's best friend, but in failing that, waiting for you to initiate it was somewhat better. He barely talked to Ada now, citing work as an excuse, but truly the guilt sickened him. He couldn't believe he was prepared to continuously hurt his little sister and betray her. But every time you turned up at his door, he couldn't find it in himself to turn you away. In his mind, every single time you came to visit him was the last time he'd let it happen, yet he was always waiting for you to come back, his blind closed to signal he was prepared. He never would call, it had to be your choice.

You'd been off and on for over five months now. It was so difficult to hide in plain sight, but you just couldn't stop yourself. Neither of you purposefully meant for this to be happen but fuck, was it fun.

For your birthday he'd gifted you a fur coat from the same shop his sister, aunt and the fashionable crowd of Birmingham had purchased theirs. He joked that you looked like a "proper razor chaser", kissing you when you pouted at his teasing, begging you to wear only the coat when you fucked him next. It was a practice for blinders to buy a coat for their wives and girlfriends as a status symbol. You were neither, but John claimed that being his "favourite lass" also counted.

John was a laugh, but you knew at any time he could close his door to you. Until he decided he couldn't be bothered with you, you weren't going to get caught. You just had to be careful until he got bored.

***

You did end up putting a foot wrong. It was a Thursday night; you were sitting on the edge of John's desk while he was ridding you of your blouse. It was past midnight, Birmingham was asleep. You almost didn't bother coming out tonight, but you knew John had lost a deal and you wanted to be there for him. Your skirt and stockings were strewn across the desk with his shirt, vest and waistcoat, muddled into the files and papers which were once neatly stacked.

His fingers were pumping in and out of you, his mouth lapping at your breast, your head tipped back in euphoria, groaning. The stress made him more affectionate and tender with you, and it was nights like these that made you wonder. Wonder if this could ever be something more, something real.

John's body suddenly pulled away from yours, quickly turning the light off.

"John, what-" You were cut off by John’s hand over your mouth, muffling your words.

"Shut up and get behind the desk." He hissed. "Someone's coming upstairs."

You quickly grabbed your clothes from the shiny oak surface and crouched, hiding yourself from view, quickly making yourself decent. You weren't going to get shot through the head with your tits out. You listened to the stairs creek, and it sounded like a group. You two were easily outnumbered. They were talking, but the thick panels of wood muffled their voices.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, the cracks in the door giving the room a dulled glow, you could make out the figure of John. He was free of his shirt, toned body on display, standing with his back flat to the wall, revolver produced from a discreet notch in the door frame, gaze fixed on where they'd enter. He was tense, ready. The door was unlocked from the outside, the door handle twisting.

John's lip shifted in confusion yet still he kept his trigger finger ready, not a single shake from your general.

The light flicked on and a shriek rang out. It was blinding, and you stood up slightly dazed. Finn was in the doorway, John next to him clutching his chest, panting and lowering the gun.

"Jesus Christ, Finn, can't you knock like a normal person? Scared the shit out of us." John bellowed, shaking as the adrenaline coursed through his body, resting his hands on the edge of the desk as he regained his breath.

"You're the one who pointed a gun at me! I didn't even know you were in 'ere!" Finn yelped.

The commotion had attracted the attention of Ada and Isaiah, who had come running and stopped in their tracks upon seeing you standing behind John's desk in the middle of the night. They weren't stupid. John was topless, your clothes obviously rumpled, both with matching tousled hair and practically stinking of guilt. You'd been caught red handed. Ada's eyes flicked between both you and John, and you could practically see the pieces of the puzzle clicking together in her mind, all the moments she found questionable since you'd returned suddenly making sense, realising she had been deceived by the two people who she was meant to trust most in life. Finn looked absolutely crushed, he'd never been able to conceal his emotions as well as his older brothers and sister, linking his fingers through Ada's, squeezing her hand.

"I forgot to drop this off earlier." Finn stated, holding up a money box, "Ada had keys so we thought we'd sneak in so I wouldn't get done by Tommy. We did call round yours, Y/N. We thought you were in bed."

"I'm sorry." You said. It was not enough but you just didn't know what else to say. You couldn't make it right, you'd really fucked up this time. Tears pricked at your eyes, as Ada examined you in silence.

John stepped in front of you defensively. "Look, Ada-"

"How long has this been going on?" She asked, her voice shaking with rage. You and John exchanged a glance. "I said, how fucking long?"

"Five months, six in a fortnight." He answered.

Isaiah whistled lowly. "That's fucked. I thought it was only a few times, that it'd finished."

"Never really over when it's John is it." Finn interjects, you glance to him, were you just one in a long string? You shouldn't be surprised but it was easy to pretend he may actually care about you.

"You've been fucking around for six months behind my back?" Ada yelped, Finn trying to comfort her but she pulled away from him. "And you fucking knew Iz."

"I'd expect this from you, yeah? Wouldn't put anything past you these days.." she sneered at John, "But you? You?! You're meant to be my best mate, but here you are sneaking about fucking my brother?"

"Ada-" you began, eyes welling with tears.

"I thought I could trust you. You're just another fucking razor chaser, aren't you?" She spits. "That's why you came back."

"No it wasn't, Ada-"

Her eyes flashed with anger, but this time John was on the receiving end. "You bought her that fucking coat ,didn't you? The fur one. You did! Fuck's sake!" Her fists were clenched, shoulders squared. For the first time in your life, you understood why crowds parted for Ada Shelby. Understood all the free drinks and cab rides, the nervous serving staff declaring your meal on the house (always acknowledged by Ada with a hefty tip), understood why the men of Birmingham didn't last long with her.

"Did it feel good to swan about town in that fucking coat, while acting as though you cared about me? It's so fucking embarrassing. All trussed up because my knobhead big brother makes you feel special? Thanks for rubbing it in my face."

"Ada, I love you. I never meant to hurt you, I got caught up and that's on me. It's my fault."

"You're not acting like you love me. This isn’t what love is, Y/N." She retorted.

You couldn’t do anything but nod. She was right.

John opened his mouth to speak, Ada silencing him, a scowl darkening her features.

"I don't care what you have to say. Any of you. Who else knows?"

"Thomas, Michael, Arthur-" John listed off slowly, each name prompting Ada to break down a little bit more in front of you.

"I didn't know Arthur knew." You said pointedly, John sending you an exasperated glance. He was planning on dealing with that later, but right now was about his sister. Fuck him if he thought you were going to stick around much longer. You didn't want to hear him justify everyone else knowing about your fling with your best friend being left completely in the dark.

"That all you have to say for yourself?" Ada snaps at you.

"I have fucking no defense, do I Ada? I should've walked away." You pushed your hair back, frustrated at yourself, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You begged yourself not to cry. Tears wouldn't help anything.

"Why didn't you?"

You didn't know. Your silence only riled her up.

"Why didn't you fucking walk away?" Ada yelled, slamming her hands on the desk.

You felt hot tears run down your face, quickly moving your hands to dab at your tears.

"Don't you dare fucking cry. After all you've done, you don't get to cry in front of me." Ada growled at you, John going to shush her, obviously wanting to comfort you. "You can all fuck off. You've all lied to me and gone behind my back. Fuck’s sake, you could've just told me. You could've just told me."

"We didn't want to hurt you." John said, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder but she flinches away.

"This hurts so much more. You get that you all lying to me is so much worse, don't you?"

"We weren't thinking."

"You really fucking weren't." Ada laughs bitterly, shaking her head, blinking away tears. "Fuck you lot."

She stormed out, tailed by Finn, begging her to slow down and talk to him, protesting his innocence in the situation. Isaiah hesitated in the doorway, his eyes flickering between you and John.

"I had no idea you two've been at it for so long."

"Iz, fuck off yeah? I've had enough today." John shot back, sliding across the desk towards you. "You alright, lass?"

"We're done here, John."

He slid off the table, his hand cupping your face, "Hey, gorgeous, I get it but don't go breaking my heart tonight. Can we just leave this for tomorrow? Sleep on it."

The idea of getting any sleep at all tonight was laughable, you'd be up all night replaying these moments and torturing yourself. Tonight couldn't get any worse so you had to finally end it. Now was the right time.

"John, it should've never happened."

"But it did."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. It's over."

"Y/N. You know for me it was never just about-"

"You're making it difficult. Stop making it difficult. Whatever you say isn't going to change that right now we have to do the right thing."

"I know you're right, but I don't want to let go. Is it so wrong to want you? I adore you, you know that."

You wouldn't meet his eyes. Sighing, John pressed his forehead to the side of your head, chin brushing your shoulder, eyes closing. He was begging you to stay with him. There had to be a solution, you'd figure it out together. His voice was cracking, eyes glassy. He looked so much younger when he was pleading. The tall bloke who terrorised the Midlands with his razor rimmed cap, a revolver in his hand, and a ruthless trigger finger had vanished. You wanted to stay, burning to curl up with him and for him to kiss it better.

"I should go." You told him. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, letting out a shaky sigh before pulling away, nodding.

"I'd drive you home but obviously-"

"Obviously."

John suddenly turned from you, eyes narrowing at Isaiah who was still hovering at the door. "Thought I told you to fuck off. Make yourself useful and get Y/N home safely." His tone was ice cold once again.

Isaiah nodded, offering his arm to you. You reached the door and instinctively looked back at John. His eyes met yours, staring at you from his desk, just as you knew he would. He prepared himself to watch you leave every night, but this time was different. That was it with you two.

Isaiah strode down the street with you in silence. You were tucked into his side as was customary with the upcoming blinders who were particularly ambitious, but there was no relaxed chat.

"Isaiah. What’re you thinking?" You asked, voice tinged with nervousness.

He sighed, running his free hand across his jaw, "That was intense in there."

"Just how he is." You shrugged.

"Does he love you or sommet?"

"Fuck knows… does it matter?"

"Of course it does. Do you love him?"

"Drop it. None of that matters, it shouldn't have happened in the first place so it can’t," You snapped, the anger at the situation you'd created suddenly overwhelming.

Isaiah whistled, raising his brow at your obvious turmoil. "You're in fucking deeper than you want to admit."

He walked you up your path, watching you turn the key to the side door leading to your bedsit. You paused, turning to him.

"Iz… I don't know what to do next."

It was so dark, you could see his face only by the lit cigarette burning to embers between his fingers. He inhaled deeply, pausing before delivering his carefully laid out plan of avoidance. Obviously the event of him crossing the Shelbys and losing their good graces weighed heavily on his mind. You nodded, listening intently, noting his ideas of relocation but he explained they were a final resort. The best thing to do was try to regain their trust; in the long run, he had calculated, it was the only option that didn't result in your life being haunted by the Shelbys. Even if they left you alone, their enemies would make a point to go after you, seeing you as an easy target. The other option was to leave the country.

"Good luck, Y/N. I mean it." He muttered as you turned the handle to the temporary safety of your home. You nodded, offering you cheek for the polite good night kiss you'd become accustomed to. He rolled his eyes and obliged, pressing an affectionate kiss to your cheek and ruffling your hair. "I'm serious. Watch your back."

***

John broke down when he finally heard the lock click shut. His eyes had been prickling with boiling tears, his jaw tensed to hold them back. He yelled out in anger, flipping his desk with force, a loud crash as the wood splintered against the stone flooring, glass shattering from the photo frames. His hands went to his head, unable to stop the gasping breaths escaping from his trembling lips, his face reddening.

"Fuck’s sake." He growled. He'd fucked everything up. He had nothing, just as he'd told you the first night you returned. The consequence was no surprise, he'd anticipated the fall out for a while, but he couldn't resist you. He was completely guilty and had no defense; his only justification being that you made him think with his cock, not his brain.

Fuck’s sake. Polly was going to murder him. She'd always had a soft spot for Ada, as the only girl in the family, and was no stranger to lecturing him over his flirtatious behaviour around Ada's friends. She'd murder him. He had a half mind to never go home. He rubbed at his eyes with his knuckles. Polly had no use for tears. That's what she'd tell him when he was a boy coming home with a skinned knee. This was far worse.

He was also sure that he was a worse brother than Tommy, perhaps the worst in the world. His baby sister, who he'd helped to toddle, carry proudly on his shoulders after school and race with her on his back through the fields on the outskirts of Small Heath, had walked in on him obviously in the midst of fucking her best mate. If he had swallowed his pride and actually talked to her, he wouldn't be in this mess. He could've told her that things changed, that for the same reasons Ada loved Y/N he had fallen for her, that he was truly sorry but she had to know before it got too far and someone got hurt. He couldn't go back.

He should've never approached you that night.

He should never approach you again.

He looked over the mess of his office, the splintered wood and shards of glass, a confetti of paperwork. Now nothing mattered. None of this mattered. He'd lost everything and he had only himself to blame.

#john shelby imagine #john shelby x reader #john shelby fluff #john shelby series #john shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinder fanfic #john shelby smut #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader

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jianghuchild · 3 years ago

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MC x Noah fic 'cause I'm bored

female Asian MC named Kat Huang

Noah stabbed Kat

not ILW canon compliant

ok let's go

Noah Marshall isn't a scary guy. Really, he's not. He's just some dude, you know. A little too gangly to know what to do with himself, that stupid beanie looming over a haircut he refuses to get.

The problem is his monster. The thing of shadow and tar that slinks around his shoulders like a pet snake, bluer-than-blue eyes glittering at you in the dark. The thing that whips out at you, jaws wide and a column of embers in its throat, if you get a little too close.

People are after Noah. People have always been after Noah. First it was cops, then cultists, then witches and warlocks and shamans and monsterhunters. Noah never lays a finger on them. He doesn't have to.

When Kat comes back, it's with a hand across her abdomen and a string of curses on her tongue. Her eyes are brown and glitter in the dark.

To the people who know, they know. Noah Marshall invites violence, so it doesn't matter who. What matters is that Noah's shadow is gone. This is when he's most vulnerable.

And oh, what a terrible mistake they make. We're in the woods, right, in a clearing. An army of brass knuckles and cutlasses and rifles. Noah and Kat backed into a corner. Kat, pale and sickly, leaning against a tree trying to catch her breath. Noah shifting in front of her.

Kat doubles over, coughs something black and slick onto the forest floor. Noah tugs her elbow, tries to get her behind him.

A crossbow fires.

These next few things happen in quick succession: Kat's head snaps up. Her eyes go black, black, black as a tunnel. She grabs Noah by the shoulder and shoves him into the tree.

And then she is holding the arrow.

The army erupts. Noah surges forward. Kat pins him against the tree with a hand on his chest. Black shadow seeps from her abdomen, from a wound that won't close. It drips and rises, something between gas and liquid.

Kat leaves one survivor to tell the tale.

Later, in a motel. Noah peering through the slits in the blinds. Kat on the bed with her shirt pulled up and a stolen suture kit beside her. Every time Kat pulls the thread through her stomach, she hisses in pain and Noah twitches. He doesn't look away from the window.

"You should leave," he says.

"And go where?" she replies darkly.

"Away from me."

"Is that an order?"

"It's a hope."

"Whose?"

Noah turns, exasperated, and flinches. Kat's stab wound is a deep, clean cut. It's not bleeding at all, and he's not sure if that makes it better or worse. Kat passes another stitch through, forehead beeded with sweat.

"Kat." He sits on the edge of the bed. The mattress dips. Kat hisses.

"Can you wait for me to finish?"

He does. He swallows his nausea and watches her do one stitch, another, and another, then finish with a series of knots that look far from surgical. Kat tosses the needle holder aside with a metallic cling. She looks up.

"What?"

And her eyes are brown, and Noah is drowning. He scrabbles for air for a long moment, and she is still looking at him. A breath. Another.

"You can't do this," he manages.

Kat leans over his knees so they're nose to nose.

"Do what?"

"You're free. You can go wherever you want."

She dips her head, her breath ghosting over his jaw. "This is where I want."

"I killed you." His voice breaks.

A pause. A devastating, stomach-dropping moment when Noah thinks she'll listen to him.

"I'll haunt you." His jaw, his neck, his ear. Every so often her nose, ice-cold, bumps into his cheek.

"I'm not worth haunting."

"You are to me."

Noah screws his eyes shut. A pair of cold hands press against his temples. Her thumbs lay over his eyes, smoothing over his brows. Slowly, he opens his eyes.

Kat's brown eyes swallow him whole. His breath catches. He leans in.

And then she disappears.

Noah blinks. Looks down. Kat has flopped onto the bed, black hair spilling beneath her. Her eyes glitter up at him.

"Sleep," she says. She turns on her side, facing him, and closes her eyes. "Tomorrow is a new day."

#m's writing shenanigans #it lives in the woods #it lives beneath #it lives within #it lives anthology #playchoices #fanfiction #mc x noah #noah x mc #noah marshall

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theblackpearls · 4 years ago

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For a Moment in Time

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Black Reader

Warning: Smut. Porn without plot. Angst. Raw (please use condoms in real life, guys! Safe sex is smart sex!) Oral Sex (women receiving) Mentions of Racism (its the 1940's y'all. No trauma I promise.)

A/N: After seeing FATWS you can't tell me Bucky wouldn't have dated a black woman if it wasn't illegal. I still think he had a girl on the side in Winter Solider and she was black. That's my comfort Canon!

It’s in the middle of the night that you hear a knock on your door. You’ve just finished getting out the shower and wrapped yourself in a towel. Normally, you’d open your front door with clothes but for this person, it didn’t matter.

Opening the front door, you’re met with that million dollar smile.

“You ready for me, Honey?” Bucky says leaning in to kiss you.

You want to but you shift your eyes to the side, looking at the women who clearly scoff at this scene. You’ve been through it a thousand times, the stares you get when Bucky ventures to your part of the neighborhood. Bucky senses your frustration but he kisses your forehead anyway, hoping to bring back that smile. He succeeds, a hint of a smile appearing on your face.

“Come on.” Bucky says, pushing your hips backwards, until you’re both inside your apartment.

Bucky closes the door behind you. You step on the stairs but are quickly pulled back, your back pressing against Bucky’s broad chest. The cold medals of his uniform tingle against your skin.

“It’s just us, Baby.” Bucky says, nuzzling his nose into the crook on your neck.

“I can’t wait to leave this place.” You sigh, leaning back against him and swaying in his arms.

“Don’t do that, Sugar.” Bucky kisses your shoulder, his pink lips running over your brown skin. “Let’s not ruin tonight, it’s our last one and I intend for those nieghbors to know my fucking name.”

“Whatever,” You say, elbowing Bucky and moving out of his hands.

“What?” Bucky says shrugging, “Come here, Baby.”

You back away from Bucky as he walks towards you. As much as you want to be in his arms, you’re still wet from the shower and would like to get dressed before.

“Bucky, wait-”

“Nope, I sai-”

You sprint up the stairs only to hear Bucky’s boot beating against the wooden stairs. You’ve almost made it but Bucky has you locked in his arms. Bucky takes you into the room and pins you against the wall, his knee wedged between your legs.

“You really are testing me, Honey.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You say, tapping his cheek.

“Mhmm.” Bucky says, biting his bottom lip.

Bucky eyes, trail down your body, starting at your breast that are just slightly showing. Bucky leans in, placing a kiss on the tops of each.

“Bucky…”

“I can't wait to fucking leave this place.” Bucky says, his hands trailing up your towel while his lips moved up, leaving warm kisses on your neck. “Take you to every place in Europe when this shit is over.”

“It’s gonna be a while, James.” You mumble, your breath staggered as he nibbles on your ear.

“Don’t do that.” Bucky hisses, his hands digging into your thighs. “Don’t speak like we’re running out of time.”

It was hard to not think of the time that you and Bucky had. You know you’d wake up in the morning and Bucky would be gone, across the world fighting for freedom. Neither of you knew how long this war would last but it was keeping you both apart. It was tough because your relationship in America was illegal and it seemed that only war could offer you guys the freedom, the freedom to pack up and move to Europe where you both could be open about your love.

“Sorry.” You whimper, Bucky spread your legs and his hips colliding with yours, his erection.

“Don’t apologize.” Bucky says, his lips laying kisses on your cheek until he moves to your jaw and then stops right over your lips. “I just want to make love to you, the way you deserve.”

Bucky cups your cheek, his thumb lighting grazing your skin back and forth. This love and compassion he shows you is hidden and safe within these four walls.

Bucky says nothing as he lifts you up, your legs instantly locking around his hips. You take note of the way Bucky moves around your room in the darkness, knowing exactly where your bed is, how far the nightside table is so he doesn’t bump into it.

Bucky lays you gently on the bed, you back against the soft sheets. Your legs fall to the side and Bucky is between the, looking down at you. The moonlight breaks through the window, illuminating your mahogany skin, showing the little droplets of water that still rest on your legs and breast. Bucky reaches for the white towel, removing it slowly, unwrapping you like his own personal gift. Bucky looks at you with longing and lust, his blue eyes illuminating as he bites his lip, wanting to devour every part of you.

Bucky bends down, kissing right above your sex. You wish he’d go lower but he actually moves up, kissing your stomach and looking at you in your eyes. Bucky then trails up your body, kissing your abdomen, to the valley between your breast, around your neck and up to your ear.

“You’re so beautiful, Babygirl.” Bucky whispers in your ear. “I’m going to remember every inch of you.”

You nod and close your eyes, not wanting to let the tears fall from your eyes and ruin this moment. Yet they fall anyway but Bucky’s pink lips are there to kiss your tears away. He catches every one until he kisses your lips, your tongues sharing the saltery tears between the two.

Bucky breaks the kiss and lefts up. He takes off his shirt, letting it fall to the side of the bed. It’s not long before Bucky is leaning over you, resting on his elbows.

There is no need for talking, you both know exactly how this will end. Bucky kisses you once more, one of his hands slides down the length of your body to grab your leg, wrapping it around him. Your hands are busy as well, trailing down his body, putting every muscle and cut into memory. Your hands reach the button of his pants and they’re quickly undone.

You slip your hand into his pants, touching Bucky’s length and he moans, breaking your intense kiss. His eyes never leave yours as your hand travels down further, stroking his cock. You want to have sex with Bucky of course, but you also want him to remember this. Remember how you stared him down as you touched his cock, watching him crumble on top of you.

You finally reach the tip, your thump running over his slit and catching the pre-cum. Bucky's hip thrust but his eyes are still open, watching you.

“Baby…”Bucky moans, his breaths becoming shallow and strained.

You want Bucky to come, to release and give you every piece of him. You pick up the pace, your hand gently squeezing his member, twisting your wrist. You feel Bucky harden in your hand, which only makes you move your hand faster. Bucky's arms shake, his head falling down to your neck, his warm breath dancing on your skin.

“It’s okay, Bucky.” You whisper in his ear, your hand becoming slick with his cum. “You can let go.”

Bucky moves his hips, thrusting into your hand, finding a manageable rhythm for him to get off without slipping out of your hand. He curses in your ear, his hands grabbing your wrist and tightening. It’s not long before Bucky releases in your hand, his moans falling into your neck as his mouth connects. Bucky collapses, his weight pressing against your and warming not only your body but your heart. You’re going to miss this, every single park of Bucky. Form his brown hair that might have too much gel to the curling of his toes as he releases inside you.

Bucky’s grip losses on your wrist and you take the time to wrap your arms around his neck.Your hands play in his hard and Bucky kisses a line from your collar bone to your ear.

“I’m gonna fucking marry you.” Bucky mumbles in your ear.

“I know.” You say, a smile carving its way onto your face.

Bucky gets up, takes off his pants and underwear, his come running down his legs. It doesn’t take long for Bucky to place himself between your legs, your sexes just inches apart as Bucky leans over you. Bucky kisses your forehead for a moment, not daring to move. Your left leg is on the bed while he has hand around your right leg, lifting it up, ready to end you, but he takes his time.

Bucky then looks down, asking for permission through both of you know that you need this. Bucky is slow with his entrance, kissing your softly and his hands making sure to massage your thigh.

“Bucky…” You mian as you feel his tip penetrate you.

“That’s it, Sugar.” Bucky groans, slowly sliding in further.

You lift your hips, wanting Bucky to fall deeper into you, find that spot and shatter every piece of you.

Your arms moved to wrap around Bucky’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss. You moan, Bucky now fully encased in your wet pussy. It feels so right to be with Bcuky like this, connected with no barriers, oceans or laws to separate you.

Bucky doesn't move yet, his kisses are gently against your lips, something sacred between the two of you. His hands move, one falling to your cheek, keeping your head raised and kissing him while the other laces with your hand above your head and pressed into the mattress.

It is now that Bucky moves slowly, his hips grinding against yours. You moan into the kiss and Bucky devours every single one. You move your hips in sync with his, his cock growing within your warmth.

“Bucky…” You moan breathlessly.

“It’s just us, Baby.” Bucky reminds you. “Be as loud as you want.”

You don’t hold yourself back, not with Bucky and not this time. Bucky’s hand slides from your face to your leg, lifting it up and thrusting deeper inside you. You arch your back, closing your eyes and mouth falling open. Sweat trickles down your body and your mind goes blank. All you can think about it how good Bucky feels inside of you, how you want think to release inside of you, mark you as his and never fucking let you go!

“Bucky!” You shout.

“Fuck.” Bucky moans, his nails digging into your hands and Bucky arching his hips, pounding into you.

The bed creaks as you try to catch your breath but Bucky steals it away with a kiss. Your mouths are slowly against one another, sharing so much and saying nothing. Your stomach abdomen tightens and your toes curl, you know it’s coming, the release that only Bucky can give you.

“Come for me, babygirl.”

And you do, relasign everything you have to give to Bucky. Bucky releases inside of you, his come filling your insidious, sticking to them and burying himself in places no one would dare look. Bucky rolls over and rests next to you, pulling you into his chest.

“It won’t always be like this.” bucky says, drawing circles right above your hip. “As soon as I come back, we’ll leave.”

“I know, Bucky.” You kiss his cheek. “It’s hard to say goodbye though.”

“Then don’t.” Bucky holds you closer. “Don’t say goodbye just wait for me to return and we’ll continue, it will be like I never left.”

“Mhmm.” You mumble fighting sleep.

You know once you fall asleep, bucky will be gone. It was something you got used to with every deployment. Though you had faith in Bucky, that he would return, there was still fear in your heart. But you could not let that fear overrun you, Bucky there would be no place for Bucky if you did that. So, you buried your fears where only you could find them and only visited them when necessary.

“Go to sleep.” Bucky says.

You want to reply to him, to tell him that you don’t want to wake and the bed be cold. But you know that it won’t comfort either of you so, you say nothing and close your eyes

Six months have passed and Bucky hasn’t sent you any letters. You're worried because your last letter was important. You were scared that Bucky had gotten the letter and didn’t send one back, an end to your relationship. Though you had faith in bucky, you guys never talked about this issue popping up.

Children.

There wasn’t an exact what to prevent you from getting pregnant. To be honest, you were shocked that it didn’t happen sooner with how many times Bucky and you were reckless. But it seemed that all the recklessness paid off say you touched your stomach.

The neighbors knew exactly whose child it was and they weren’t too happy. You’d walk around town and they'd curse your name and it never bothered you until now. Maybe it was your hormones and not hearing from Bucky that made you so emotional. But couldn’t think about that now, not when someone else was depending on you to be strong. You just needed to know that Bucky also cared for you and didn’t abandon you. You hear a knock on the front door and wobble towards it. Your heart races, hoping that it’s Bucky.

However you open the door and it’s Steve instead. He’s bigger this time and a lot taller. You’d seen him once before and he never looked this big or good for that matter. But you ignore your hormones once again and smile at Steve though he doesn’t smile back.

“Steve.” You say. “Where is Bucky?”

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction

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runwithwolvcs · 4 years ago

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You Know I’m No Good - o n e

Summary: Tallulah Forester isn’t a bad person, she’s just made one too many bad decisions. Which is why she has now found herself four hours away from her home in Seattle, to her estranged fathers little home in La Push, with her stepmom and two half sisters, whom she has only been with a couple of times in the past 15 years. Her mother and father had agreed, shockingly, that the small town lifestyle would be beneficial to their wild child, but bad habits die hard, especially when it comes to being in control.

Timeline: Takes place a few years after the events of Breaking Dawn

Pairing: Paul Lahote x OC (Tallulah is 18)

Warnings (future chapters): Drugs/Alcohol, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Jealousy, Mental Health, (Mentions of SA, but no details)

There are losses that rearrange the world. Deaths that change the way you see everything, grief that tears everything down. Pain that transports you to an entirely different universe, even while everyone else thinks nothing has really changed.

Tallulah stared out the window in the back seat with her knees tucked up to her chest, arms wrapped around them tightly as her father drawled on, switching from topic to topic, your sisters and Kira are so excited your coming to we’ve already enrolled you at the school to do you remember this person or that person? Anything to fill the silence from creating a suffocating atmosphere in the car. It all sounded like white noise to her, she barely remembered La Push.

She moved to Seattle with her mother when she was six and the two of them never looked back, whenever she would see her father or half-sisters, they would meet halfway in Port Angeles and then head their separate ways. It was easier that way for everyone involved.

Josette and Lenna, her half-sisters, were ten the last time she spent any actual memory inducing time with them. Although they are only two years younger than her, they were so different. So in tune with the tribe, whereas she barely knew anything about the histories. She doubted anything would have changed in that respect.

Tallulah's headaches from her hangover, or maybe lack of sleep, she thought, and as she laid her head against the window she listened to the sound of passing cars and her dad's voice as she slipped into a dreamless sleep.

--------

Tallulah awoke to the sound of the car door shutting and a nearby dog barking, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, grateful her headache was gone, but now in its place was a lump in her throat, as she looked around her surroundings outside of the car. The little blue house she vaguely remembers. The tire swings in the old oak tree. A woman's laugh caught her attention, as she looked to see her dad and stepmom, chatting away, happier than ever. Tallulah felt so out of place. Like she was an intruder coming in to ruin her fathers happy, little family with her black cloud of disappointment.

Tallulah groaned to herself as she unbuckled herself, might as well get this over with, she thought to herself while opening the car door and slowly stepping out, stretching as she did. She could feel the two adults eyes on her as she shut the door gently, looking towards them, Kiras big smile, that if she didn’t know better would look insincere, but she did know. Her stepmom was a tryhard, doing anything and everything to be the perfect wife, the perfect mother and stepmother, no matter how hard Tallulah pushed against her kind persona. She was the reason her family was in pieces. Kira and her father were no doubt in love, even when her parents were still together, they never looked at each other the way she sees her father looks at Kira and vice versa, like they are each other's reasons for being. She moves, he moves. Tallulah nearly physically cringes. It's not something she ever wants for herself, that fairy tale love.

She walks toward them slowly, Kira meeting her halfway, wrapping her arms in a bear crushing hug that she doesn’t reciprocate, looking past her at her father who has that ‘be nice’ look on his face, and clearly, she was in no place to fight that. She couldn’t help but think, if this doesn't work out the way her parents think it will, where is the next place she would be shipped off to?

Kiras' soft, sweet voice shakes her from her thoughts, “it's so nice to see you again. Your hair has gotten so long.” Tallulah raises an eyebrow before stating, “I've cut it a few times since I saw you last.” Kira laughs off the dig, before walking towards her father and saying, “the twins are out, we’d figured you'd be better off getting settled without a full house.” Tallulah nodded in response as her father spoke up for the first time since arriving, “besides, we have some things to discuss. Expectations and what not,”

Tallulah eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Rules? I’m eighteen. I don’t need to have any rules.” Her arms crossed over chest, as if she were a child.

“If you think that you will be continuing your..extracurricular activities that you have picked up in Seattle, you are wrongly mistaken” he says in what she assumes is his fatherly tone that works on the twins, but not her, he gave up that right fifteen years ago. “Your mother has filled us in on everything, Tally” She rolls her eyes at this, as if she knows everything, she thought to herself.

Kira stood up on the porch, just inside the doorway, “Joseph, let her settle in, we can have this conversation tomorrow, after the bonfire.” she said in ‘dont fight me in this tone’, to which Tallulah appreciated, yet was confused, “Bonfire?” she asked, as she made her way up the steps of the house leaving her dad to bring in her few bags, “The tribe bonfire party happens once a month, the girls love it, plus you can meet some of your classmates before you start school.” Kira spoke as if this was something she should look forward to, but in all honesty, large gatherings were not Tallys scene, despite what her mother thinks. But, she would attend, save face and hope with good behaviour she would be back in Seattle with her friends in no time. This thought reminded her to shoot them a text quickly explaining her situation, hoping they would see it as an SOS, before shoving her phone back in her pocket and following Kira around the house like a little kid, listening to where things were kept, which rooms were which and then finally a stop at the room in which she would call hers. The walls were a blank, cream color, with light blue bedding and a wooden desk shoved in the corner, along with what looks like textbooks sitting on top.She nods politely as Kira mentions they will be leaving within the hour but try to settle in and suggests she may want to change out of her cotton shorts, as it “gets quite cold compared to Seattle” as she put it.

-----

7:14 read the time on Tallulah's phone as they walked up to the beach, the sun had just begun to set and the temperature had, in fact, dropped quite a bit, thankful for Kiras advice, Tallulah had changed into a pair of loose, blue jeans and had tucked her hands into the pockets of her oversized, black hoodie, fingers curled under the long sleeves to keep them warm.

She walked slightly behind Kira and her father, standing off to the side as they were greeted by people, before they had reached whom she suspected to be the twins. They looked so different from what she remember, her father lowly spoke to her, as Kira caught their attention, pointing out the smaller of the two as Josette and the taller, as Lenna. Josie dawned a baggie pair of dark pair of overalls, with a striped sweater underneath, her hair in two space buns, which was quite different from her sister, in her plaid mini skirt and form-fitting long sleeve shirt, her pin straight, dark hair fanned out behind her back. Tallulah could already tell they wouldn’t get along.

She watched as Lenna stalked away from her mother to a group of people who looked around their age, before snapping her eyes back at the sound of her name being called, to see Kira and Josette waving her over, before she could even move her feet willingly, her dad was nudging her in their direction, as if she would turn and walk the other way.

Josette moved over so she could sit directly beside, a friendly smile that resembled Kiras on her face, “ Hi Tally” she spoke her childhood nickname softly, “it’s been awhile, you look so much older, not in a bad way, like mature, adultish, but obviously your only two years older than me so not technically an adult..” she rambled off, “Hey Josette” and before Tallulah could say anything else, she was interrupted by the younger girl, “Its Josie or Jo, whichever fine, just not Josette” she spoke quickly, a pale blush crossing her olive toned skin, to which Tallulah just nodded and asked, “How long do these things last?”

“That depends,” Josie spoke, “Typically the adults leave once the stories and tribal matter finishes, so maybe an hour or two. But we usually stay later, or at least Lenna does.” she said, looking in the direction of her twin, who was now surrounded by a group of other rambunctious teenagers. “Sam Uley's crew is here tonight, so who knows if that will even happen, especially after last time.” Tallulah didn’t question the younger girl, mainly because she just didn’t care to. She looked away from Lenna and her friends, her eyes gazing on all the unfamiliar faces sitting on logs or picnic tables surrounding the growing fire.

Her eyes stopped on what seemed to be a couple, the girl was beautiful, her long black hair was tied up into a neat ponytail, she was talking to a man in a wheelchair beside her, who looked like he could be her dad, her eyes shifted to the man sitting next her, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, he was in shorts and a shirt and looked perfectly comfortable in the frigid air, he was joking around with the boys next to him, as if the beautiful girl next to him was really there, despite his arm around her, “Thats Paul Lahote.” Josie said from next to her, causing her to flush from her obvious staring, he looked in their direction, as if he had heard Josie say his name, they locked eyes for a split second before Tallulah looked away embarrassed she had been caught. “Don’t worry, Lenna stares at him too,” Josie laughed jokingly, “I wasn’t staring” Tallulah spoke defensively, Josie raised her hands in surrender before leaning in close, “looks like he's the one staring now” Josie grinned, watching as Tallulah looked back at the older boy, noticing that he was staring at her, almost like a deer in headlights. He looked so familiar, though she doubts that they have ever met before. He smiles at her slightly, his arm retracting from the girl beside him despite her protest to his movement, and now the beautiful women is also looking at her, causing Tallulah to look down at her sleeve covered hands that lay in her lap, only looking up again when her father sits in the spot next to her, asking if she's alright, to which she absentmindedly nods her head. Is she alright after her entire life has been altered in the last 12 hours? What kind of question is that?

Her eyes are drawn back to the spot Paul Lahote was sitting in, or had been sitting in, the seat was now vacant, the man nowhere in her line of sight, and she can't help but feel a little disappointed.

#paul lahote imagine #paul lahote fanfic #paul lahote x oc #paul lahote #twilight wolves #twilight wolf pack #embry call #leah clearwater #you know im no good #chapter 1

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chemist-ana · 4 years ago

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Chapter 14 The Flight— Sams POV

Book: The Nanny Affair

Characters: Sam, Ana Schuyler (MC), Mason and Mickey, Sofia

Pairing: Sam Dalton (male) x Ana Schuyler (MC)

Rating: 18+

Content Warning: NSFW, Sexual Language, Adult Language, Sexual Situations

A/N Shit starts to hit the fan for these two, I know that book 2 already started, but I have had some requests for this series to continue. I know Sam is in a weird place- and the next chapter I am going to really delve into his mind. Keeping this one a little light yall.

Summary: In the cold light of day, will you and Ana be able to face the consequences of your actions?

Word Count: 3919

Tag List: @txemrn @secretaryunpaid @pixie88 @thefrenchiemama @sfb123 @mainstreetreader @shewillreadyou @choicesficwriterscreations @chrissythadon @somersetmummy @jerzwriter @shannonwrote @khoicesbyk @lady-calypso @melalicious8383 @chrissythadon

The car ride to the private terminal of JFK is long… and loaded with tension. I continue to glance at Ana who is studiously avoiding my gaze and has been for the entire week leading up to this trip. Her legs are curved up with a pair of high-heeled boots, a light floral sundress, complimenting her olive skin. Effortlessly beautiful...

We pull up on the tarmac and Carter opens our door. The boys jump out of the car, and Ana and I follow close behind, taking the stairs up into one of the Dalton Enterprises jets.

“Dibs on the top bunk!” Mason calls out as he runs down the aisle towards the boy’s room in the back of the jet.

“No fair!” Mickey chases after him.

“There are bedrooms on this thing?” I hear Ana murmur to herself.

“Yes, ma’am. We’re equipped with every amenity you could possibly imagine.” Ana jumps in surprise as Ellie, my flight attendant, answers her.

“Really? Even a full-body massage?” Her lips spread.

I bite the inside of my cheek to hide my boylike grin as Ellie answers her. I will give you a full body massage.

“Thank you, Ellie. That will be all for now.” I tell her with a smile.

“Very good. I’ll go check on the boys. Push the call button if you need me.” She gives me a nod, and walks towards the back of the plane, disappearing from view.

Ana finally glances my way and I catch her eye, offering her a small smile as I sit down in one of the leather chairs.

“You look wonderful today. New outfit?”

She blushes but doesn't break her eye contact. “You know what they say… new country, new me.”

“I hope everything about you hasn’t changed… although I do like the new look.” She searches my eyes.

“Thank you.” She says as she sits down in a chair across the aisle from me, turning her gaze out of the window.

I let my eyes roam across her body before turning to the New York Times that is sitting on the table in front of me. I unfold it, desperate to alleviate even a little bit of the tension between us. If that means I need to give you space… I can try. I watch out of the corner of my eye as she opens up some sleazy tabloid magazine. I watch her eyes narrow as she becomes engrossed in a story, a line forming between her brow.

“What has you so absorbed over there?” I ask, breaking the silence. I wonder if that issue has our photo in it?

“Oh, nothing. Just some mindless reading.”

“I’m not sure there is such a thing.”

She turns her face towards me. “Sam, you’re talking to me now?”

I bite my tongue to stop a grin. “Last I checked, you were the one avoiding me. I’ve tried to talk to you several times over the last few days…”

“I wasn’t avoiding you. I was busy getting ready for our trip.” Her tone was defensive as a hot color rose on her cheeks. Her eyes narrowed.

“I know. That's why I let it slide. But now that we’re stuck together for a while… Let’s just say, I asked Ellie to make sure the boys are otherwise occupied for the first leg of our journey.”

The scoffs. “What if I don't want to talk to you?”

“That’s certainly your prerogative. I won’t force you, Ana.” I keep my voice even.

She lifts the magazine to block me out and I shake my head slightly, turning my attention back to the newspaper.

“Ohmygod! Sam, have you seen this?”

That beautiful photo of you and me together in the gossip mags? Of course, I have… I have had dozens of news alerts since that night.

“I told you that you were a big hit that night. Even the press thinks so.”

“It’s a good thing they didn’t let cameras inside the gala. That could’ve been embarrassing.”

“Would it have been so bad? I’m not embarrassed about anything that happened that night.” It probably would have been bad for my image… but maybe it's the exact kick in the ass I need.

“... Aren’t you?” She gives me an incredulous look as she raises a sculpted brow.

“Absolutely not. I may regret how some things were handled after the fact… but nothing that happened that night. Or the night after, for that matter.” Even though I definitely acted like it… and continue to act like it. I haven’t given you a reason to believe a word I fucking say.

“Sam…”

I take a breath, standing up, and moving to the seat next to her before I can stop myself. I place my hand on hers, the familiar spark that has been present from the moment I first touched her, crackles between us. Her eyes roam my face and settle on my lips.

“... Ana?” I warn as heat starts to spread in my veins. I watch as her eyes darken and her tongue darts out to lick at her bottom lip. She reaches up and wraps her hands around the back of my neck, pulling my lips to within millimeters of hers.

“I want you.” She whispers

“If this is a trick to distract me from our talk-”

“It’s not. I just need you inside me.” She whimpers, cutting me off, her voice laden with desire. Her words send a shockwave through my body as I whisper a quiet curse and bring her lips to mine. I need to be inside of you. I coax her lips open with my tongue as we settle back into our seats. I tap my hand blindly, searching for the blanket I know is draped around the back of my chair. I grip the soft fabric when I find it, pulling it over our laps, sliding my hands under it, and running my fingers up the inside of the soft skin of her thighs. My lips drop to the delicate curve of her throat, eliciting a moan from her lips.

My fingers travel further up until I reach the apex of her thighs, my thumb pressing against her nub through the lace fabric of her panties. Her breathing gets shallow as I feel her body begin to tense. Without breaking our heated kiss she stands and sits on top of my lap, straddling my hips, effectively pinning my hand between her legs.

“That’s better.” She murmurs against my lips.

“So much for our security blanket.” I tease.

“Do you mind?” She asks me, leaning back slightly so she can see my eyes.

“Definitely not. The view is better like this.” I stare longingly across the curves of her body before I lean forward and pepper kisses along the exposed skin of her chest. “I just want you to be comfortable.”

She wraps her arms around my neck and grinds her hips into my hardened desire, she quivers at the contact.

“Oh, I am.” She purrs. She snakes her hand down and makes contact with my hard cock. I suck in a breath through my teeth at the sensation. “Is all this for me?” She smiles as she watches my expression of pleasure that is obvious on my face.

“Only you.” I answer, my voice husky.

She briefly halts her movement to unzip my jeans, reaching into my boxers to make direct contact with her soft palm. The sensation has me pumping my hips in time with her firm strokes, sending a moan falling from my lips.

“Mmm, I love that sound. But you’d better keep it down…” She teases, as her lips explore the planes of my cheek, her hips and hand still rubbing against me.

“Is that a challenge?” I growl at her. I slide my fingers past the delicate fabric and dip two fingers inside of her moist cunt. She bites her lip as her gaze grows dark and her body writhes. Her head falls back as she moans. “I bet I can make you come first…” I whisper into her ear, loving the way her body responds to my touch.

She slides her hand out of my jeans, leaning back slightly on my lap. Her eyes never leaving mine, she brings her palm up to her mouth, running her hand along her tongue. Her name falls from my lips as she sends waves of desire through my body. She reaches her hand back down, pumping harder and faster than she did before. I can’t help the moans that are escaping my lips as she works my cock like a pro. I close my eyes as I give into the sensation, my breathing growing ragged.

Desperate to watch her come undone, I focus my thoughts into adding another finger into her pooling wetness, using my thumb to press firmly against her clit. I reach my other hand up under her dress, finding and pinching her nipple into a firm peak. She moans my name, a surrender.

“I won't come until you do…” I whisper against her cheek, her ragged breathing hot on my neck.

We continue to move faster against each other. Her movements send me impossibly deeper and higher as I near the edge of my own release.

“That’s it, Ana. Come for me.” I whisper into her ear as her moans fill my ears. I watch her mouth fall open as her forehead falls to my shoulder. She bites my shoulder, hard, as she muffles her moans. Her body convulses and tightens around my fingers as she goes crashing over the edge in her orgasm. The feel of her body coming at my command sends me soaring over the edge with her as my eyes close and my head falls back. I moan her name as we find our release, together. We stay intertwined together as our breathing slows, her head still resting on my shoulder.

A few minutes later, she lifts her emerald eyes to mine.

“Call it a tie?” She says as a playful smile crosses her face.

I can’t help but laugh as I press a soft kiss to her lips. “Fair enough. But watch yourself, or I might demand a rematch.” I help her retake her seat in the plush leather chair beside mine, and I take a moment to button up my jeans and straighten my shirt.

“So… about that talk.” Her voice sounds small.

A wave of guilt and regret wash over me as I glance over at Ana and her fingers are knotted on her lap.

“What’re we going to do?” She asks quietly.

“I don’t know. I shouldn’t have put you in such a terrible position.” I reach up and rub the back of my neck as my stomach drops.

“‘Terrible position’? Meaning… You’re still going to marry Sofia. Even after we...” Her voice sounds so sad… and I want to tear at the ache in my chest as the realization hits me. I have no choice…

“Yes. I… I have to.” My eyes search hers as I see them start to shine with unshed tears.

“You don’t have to do anything. You could grow up. Are you ever going to take responsibility for your part in all of this?” Her voice is angry now as her lips settle into a thin line.

“You’re right. I haven’t been stepping up like I should. But I’m trying to change that now. And this engagement… it’s my way of trying to take responsibility for the boys’ sakes.”

“The boys? What do they have to do with this?” Her eyes widen.

“Everything. I don’t know what you’ve heard about me and Sofia, but the arrangement was our parents’ idea. A way to merge our families and companies.”

“Because it's the 19th century again?” She says with contempt.

“Something like that. But I’ve known Sofia forever, and I already married for love once… At the time, the engagement seemed like the right move.” I never thought I would meet another woman that would floor me the way you do.

“A way to secure a legacy for Mason and Mickey.” Her face drops at her realization.

“Exactly. After everything they’ve been through with their mom and previous nannies, I felt like they needed a stable, motherly presence in their lives. My dad is officially stepping down as CEO after the merger, and I’ll take over for him, as long as everything goes as expected. It was the perfect plan. But then…” I trail off as the words I long to say hurt too bad to say out loud… I met you.

“Then you met me.”

I nod as I watch her sink further into the chair.

“If I don’t marry Sofia, I’d lose everything. It'd be an easy decision if I only had myself to think about. But if Robin takes over the company, Mason and Mickey would lose everything too. And Dalton Enterprises… it’s their birthright.” It’s in their name, they are destined to run this company… if I can’t be there as their father, I need to give them the one thing I have worked so hard to give them.

“Sam, have you talked to your dad about this? Maybe if you just explain…”

My mind wanders back to the conversation I had with my father… “Women like your nanny are only good for one thing…”

I shake my head, controlling the grimace that threatens to cover my face. Time for a white lie…

“We have talked about it. As much as he likes you, he’s convinced Sofia is the better match. He won’t change his mind.”

She hesitates, her eyes focused on her hands before she takes a deep breath. “In that case, I think we should take a step back. You’re engaged. You're going to marry Sofia. Until that changes, we can't keep going the way we have been.”

My stomach sinks further as she turns her face towards mine. I hate being the one that has made you so sad…

“Of course… if that’s what you want, I’ll respect your wish. I suppose I should stay by sitting over there, huh?” I gesture to the other side of the plane and she gives me a small, sad smile.

“Yeah, that might be best.”

I stare at her for one more moment before retreating back to the other side of the jet. I see her turn and face the window out of the corner of my eye and I tip my head back onto the headrest. What am I doing, and why does this feel so wrong?

***

The flight passes by slowly as the tension lingers between Ana and me. When we finally land in Italy we make the long drive up to Sofia’s family villa that is nestled in the middle of wine country. I watch as Ana stares absentmindedly out of the window and my chest tightens.

“I’m so tired, I can barely think straight.” She frowns as she steps out of the SUV, shielding her eyes from the bright sun.

“Ana, you can take a nap while me and Mason go to the beach!” Mickey shouts as he jumps out.

“Nice try, Mickey, but there are other adults who can watch you while Ana rests.” I tousled his hair.

“Can’t blame a kid for trying…” He shrugs his shoulders.

“Dad, will you take us to the beach?” Mason asks with a smile.

“At some point, definitely. But we should check in with our hosts before we make any plans--”

“Is that my boo-bear I hear?” Sofia shouts as she emerges from the front door. I bite my tongue. God, I hate that nickname.

Sofia walks up and greets everyone with a kiss on each cheek.

“You’re finally here! Welcome to our humble abode.” She stretches her arms out and gestures to the estate. “Ana, that dress is divine. I was worried that… Never mind, you’ll fit right in.” Sofia glances quickly at Ana before turning her back and moving towards the door. “Come in, come in. It won’t do for the neighbors to see us standing outside all day.”

“But Aunt Sofia, there aren’t any other houses around…” Mason scrunches up his face in confusion, but Sofia just waves her hand dismissively as she continues walking away from us.

“I’ll just give you a quick tour so you don’t get lost-”

“Can we start with the pool?” Mickey shouts as he runs by her.

“Mickey! Wait for me!” Mason chases after him, pulling his suitcase behind him. They both stop beside the pool, opening their suitcases and digging around, removing every last piece of packed clothing from inside. I bite back a smile as I watch Sofia’s eyebrows furrow in annoyance.

“Ana, aren’t you going to do something about this?”

“Actually, as their future stepmom, maybe you should.” Ana shrugs her shoulders.

Sofia huffs and looks at Mason and Mickey.

“This oughta be good…” Ana whispers as she leans in close to me.

“I’m almost afraid to look.” I flash her a smile.

“You two, stop it right now and clean up this mess!” Sofia shouts at them as she places her hands on her hips.

“No thanks!” Mason doesn’t even look up from trying to find his swimsuit.

“Target acquired, Admiral Mason!” Mickey celebrates as he lifts a super soaker over his head in victory. Where the hell did that come from?

“How did they sneak that into their luggage?” Ana says with surprise.

Mickey quickly fills the water gun in the pool and points and shoots it all over Mason as he shouts.

“Boys! Enough!”

I jump slightly as Sofia shouts, her face twisted in anger. The boys turn towards Sofia, their fingers still pulling the trigger on the guns, sending a water stream shooting onto Sofia’s face.

This. Is. Priceless.

“Sorry!” Mickey shouts, immediately putting the water gun to his side.

“Alright, I think that’s enough. Boys, clean up your clothes right now.” Ana steps forward, clearly fighting back a laugh.

“Yes, Ana…” Mason looks down at the pile of clothes, kneeling down to put it all back inside of his suitcase.

“I really didn’t mean to spray you, Aunt Sofia. I was aiming for Mason.” Mickey looks at Sofia.

“...I accept your apology.” Sofia chimes as her face softens.

“Maybe we should let them blow off some steam after being cooped up in the place for so long.” Ana turns to me and I glance down at her.

“Good thinking. Let’s take this tour away from the pool…” I glance down at the boys who have their suitcases zipped and by their sides.

Sofia leads us to the back patio

“Wow. I could get used to this.” Ana says quietly as she places her hands on the railing, overlooking the rolling hills.

“It’s a stunning view.” I step up next to her.

“And it’s the perfect place to play hide-and-seek.” Mickey’s eyes grow wide as he looks around the rows of grapes in the vineyard.

“Not it!” Mason shouts as they start to run towards the rows of vines, but Sofia steps into their path causing both of them to slide to a stop.

“The vineyard is not for recreation. It’s a Russo subsidiary.” Her eyes are wide.

I roll my eyes.

“What does that mean?” Mickey looks up at her.

“It means little boys shouldn’t play hide-and-seek in it.” She crosses her arms across her chest.

“Sofia, be reasonable. The boys won’t hurt the vines, and they could use the chance to run around a bit.” I take a step towards her meeting her gaze.

“But these varieties take years to grow to fruition. One misstep and-”

I know you are worried about your dad, Sof. Let it go.

“Please, Aunt Sofia!” Mason shouts, bringing his hands together to plead.

“We promise we won’t touch any grapes!” Mickey widens his eyes.

“And if anything does happen, I’ll make sure your father knows it was my fault.”

“But nothing will. Sam and I will make sure of it.” Ana steps up by my side and I glance down at her quickly. Sofia looks between Ana and me.

“Very well. On one condition…”

“What?” Mason asks.

“...I’m not ‘it’ either!” Sofia smiles a genuine smile.

“You’re gonna play too? Not it!” Ana smiles as she dances backward from the group, putting space between herself and all of us.

“Not it!” I shout making my way towards the vines and look down at Mickey. His lips spread into a sly smile.

“Whatever, I’m the fastest anyway.”

“This planter will be home base. You can’t get tagged while you’re touching it.” Mason points to a pot on the patio.

“Yeah, yeah. But first… you all have to hide!” Mickey turns his back to the vines and closes his eyes as he starts counting. Everyone scatters to find a hiding spot. I head into the vines, finding a place between a trellis and I hear Mickey shout.

I sit quietly until I see Mickey pass by me. As soon as he is out of sight, I emerge from my hiding spot, making a straight shot to the planter. When I turn around I see Ana running towards me with Mickey hot on her heels.

“Come on, Ana! I’ve got you!”

“Not if I get you first!” Mickey shouts gaining on her.

I reach out and grab Ana’s hand, pulling her powerfully into my arms. Her chest rises and falls with her breath.

“Safe!” She giggles, the sound sending warmth surging through me.

“... For now. I’ll get you next time.” Mickey smiles.

“We’ll see about that.” Ana jests.

“Sofia and Mason are still out there… Unless you want them to win.” I look at Mickey.

“Never!” He shouts as he turns and runs back into the vines.

“Don’t you think Sofia might see?” Ana whispers.

I look down as I realize I still have my arms firmly around Ana’s body.

“Right, of course. Sorry.” I shake my head slightly as I let my arms fall to my side, but I don’t step back. She looks up at me and her emerald eyes shine in the bright sunlight.

“Thanks for saving me.” She clears her throat with a smile.

“Any time. I-”

I jump when a triumphant shout comes from the vines. I turn and see Sofia walking with Mickey and Mason towards the patio.

“I got Aunt Sofia!” Mickey raises his fist in the air.

“She was talking on her phone! I saw the whole thing!” Mason pushes his glasses up his nose.

“Nice one, Mickey.” Ana gives him a high five.

“I had to take the call! They didn’t know I was in the middle of a game.” Sofia’s eyes are wide as she comes to a stop and places her hands on her hips.

“Sounds like he got you fair and square, Sofia.” I give her a crooked smile and she sticks her tongue out at me.

“Which means that you’re it.” Ana cheers as she starts backing towards the vines.

“Very well.” Sofia closes her eyes and starts counting loudly. I turn and make my way back into the vineyard to hide. I glance over my shoulder and I see Ana watching me as I turn down a row. I flash her a wink. Follow me. But she doesn’t.

In fact, she avoids me for the rest of the day. My mind races as the reality of our situation really hit me. What are you going to do Dalton?

#ana dalton #choices fanfic writers creations #choices tna #choicestna #choices sam dalton #the nanny affair #sam dalton #sams pov #sam dalton x mc

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witchersjaskier · 5 years ago

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first snow

Geralt laughs when he sees Jaskier's eyes go wide. He tends to laugh more and more often now, warmth in his cjeddt surging up whenever he looks at Jaskier.

His best friend, his lover, just lights everything up, always. No matter how much Geralt tried to push him away, the bard just stuck by his side. It took him a few years to realize that Jaskier will come and go as he pleased, and no one can make him do what he doesn't want to do. He admires that in his lover.

Finding out that Jaskier is not human but a shifter actually made things make sense. Now Geralt could understand some very particular behaviors, like his love of water and the outdoors, which contrasts with his silks and expensive oils. Seeing Jaskier shift was life changing and Geralt will always treasure that memory.

He has quite a few memories to treasure, all of them containing Jaskier. His bard, no matter what form, just makes the best moments, most tender memories, best nights and mornings.

This is shaping out to be another amazing memory.

Jaskier is standing in front of the window, staring out in the yard where snow is already covering the ground. It snowed heavily during the night, as it always does so far ul north, and now everything is covered in white. To Geralt, it's a minor inconvenience during training.

To Jaskier, it's a miracle apparently.

"150 years and you've never seen snow?" Geralt asks jokingly, smirking when it makes Jaskier splutter.

"Not never, you brute! Just...not so much at once," his lover explains. "I don't tend to spend winter so much up north. It doesn't pay well, you understand."

Geralt just hums. His bard is practically vibrating in excitement so the Witcher rolls his eyes.

"Go. Explore."

Jaskier laughs, kisses him shortly and shifts in a heartbeat. Suddenly, there's a shock of deep oragne between dark grey walls and then the tiger jumps out of the window, landing neatly in a pile of snow.

Geralt leans against a wall and just watched his lover jump around and play in the snow, easily visible in the shock of white. Jaskier is always full of energy but there's something majestic in his shifted form. Massive and coiled with muscle under long striped fur, each move graceful and deadly.

"He's having fun, huh?" Eskel says, suddenly appearing by his side.

Geralt grunts. "He never saw so much snow."

"Well, he surely has the mass and fur not tk get cold," his brother notices. "I'm pretty sure he's actually the kind that has been seen up north, in deep snow. Years ago though, not now."

"Maybe they got wise and avoid humans now," Geralt says dryly.

He read about tigers in the cold, barren winter forests. Geralt enjoys reading and when he found out what his lover is, he made sure to know at least a bit of his habits. Still, mostly it's leaning on the fly when Jaskier is feeling particularly non-human.

Right now, his tiger is rolling in the snow like a kitten, chuffing and growling, eyes closed in pleasure. Geralt slowly walks out into the snow and Jaskier immediately gets up to sya hello.

He almost throws Geralt off balance in his enthusiasm, winding around his legs, rubbing his face into Geralt's stomach. The Witcher laughs quietly, rubbing between the tiger's ears and then leaning down to press a kiss there.

"All played out?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.

Jaskier looks at him for a second before suddenly lunging and sending them both into the snow. Geralt growls and Jaskier growls back, pinning him down. The Witcher allows himself to play a bit, and a few minutes later he feels another body join their pile.

It's a surprisingly good first day of snow in Kaer Morhen.

#witcher #the witcher #jaskier #geralt #eskel #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #my writing #big kitty jaskier #non human jaskier

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bakubabes-tatakae · 5 years ago

Note

Hello! Can I request a nsfw kakashi one shot or drabble (it doesn't matter) with prompt list choice three #6 and #14. Kakashi is hokage and has been very busy and the reader misses him a lot so she decides to stop by his office. Thank you!

I’m always happy to write a little NSFW Kakashi. 🤤 That man does some things. 🥵

We Can’t Do That Here || {NSFW} Kakashi x Reader

AO3 Link

NSFW

Word Count: 1,112

The Hokage’s office was the new home away from home for Kakashi, something that left his wife at home alone most nights. The house was dark as you laid in bed, the loneliness looming over you, about to hit you the hardest as you tried to fall asleep. It was the third time this week that Kakashi had been at work this late and even when he WAS home he was too exhausted to do anything but sleep. As you laid there, as impossible as it seemed, the darkness crept around you, almost suffocating you. Enough was enough. You could barely control the growing ache coming from between you legs, you couldn’t even remember the last time the two of you had been intimate.

The walk to the Hokage’s office was cold, you were regretting not grabbing that sweater on the way out the door. The t-shirt and shorts were definitely not the right apparel for the current weather. The wind whipped through your hair as you approached the stairs to the building, hesitant on if you should even go up. What if he told you to go home?

When you approached his office the doors were already open, Kakashi was no where to be found. You walked around his desk, trailing your fingers along the edges, before sitting in his chair and turning it toward the windows behind it; ever so patiently awaiting his approach.

You heard footsteps enter the room followed by the familiar sigh of the man you loved. They grew closer to the desk, the heat between your legs growing almost unbearable. As he turned his chair he jumped, the last thing he has expected to see was someone sitting in his office chair, let alone it being his wife. You stood swiftly from the chair and put your finger to his lips as he went to speak. “Don’t speak.”

You threw your lips onto his and he willingly obliged. His hands intertwined themselves with your hair as you pushed him against the wall behind him. His kiss was passionate, yet almost desperate. He broke the kiss, coming up for air. “We can’t do this here. What if someone comes in?”

“Kakashi, there’s no one here. And even if there was you can hear footsteps clearly in this place when it’s empty. Stop stressing yourself out.” You reached a hand down to his waist, his bulge pressing aggressively against his pants. “It’s not like you’re not ready for this.”

Without saying another word Kakashi placed his hands under your thighs, lifting you off the ground and carrying you over to his desk. With one swift arm movement the mountain of papers on his desk flew to the floor. Kakashi couldn’t get your shirt off of you fast enough, as it came over your head he threw it to the side without caution, not caring what his office looked like anymore; animal instinct taking over him.

You laughed into the kiss which caused a smile from his lips. You slowly unzipped the front of his black vest and as he shrugged it off his shoulder you slowly moved his shirt up his back. The attempt to take off the long black shirt that covered him was clearly not fast enough for him. Kakashi grabbed the back of it and tossed it over your heads.

Kakashi leaned forward, pinning you down to the desk, kissing your neck. “Enough with the teasing baby girl, you know what that does to me.”

You bit your lip, knowing just that little move would drive Kakashi absolutely feral. “What do you mean Kashi? I’d never-”

You were cut off by his lips, his hands trailing every inch of you, sending tingles up and down your entire body. Kakashi hooked his fingers into the back of your shorts, pulling them off of you with ease. You had been wearing his favorite bra and pantie set. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

You stayed silent, just raised your eyebrows to him and winked. His hands gripped your thighs, taking in the sight of you trembling on the table, barely able to control yourself. He pushed your legs apart and before you could interject his tongue met your clit, sending pleasure coursing through you. His tongue drew circles around your clit while he placed his fingers in your entrance. The sounds coming from your lips caused him to pick up the pace. When he stopped to take a breath he taunted. “How fast can you come baby?” Just to take over again with the same pace.

You could feel yourself about to come undone under his touch. Your walls were closing against his fingers and he retracted them, he stood up, and watched you whimper on his desk. The sound of his zipper filled the room as you grew silent, his erection springing forward as his pants were pulled down to his knees.You reached forward and took his length in your hands, spreading the pre-cum on the tip around, causing him to throw his head back. You pointed at his desk chair. “Sit.”

Kakashi did as he was told, watching you with lust in his eyes as you stood from the desk, climbing onto his lap. You lined him up with you entrance and slowly lowered yourself onto him, his girth spreading you out. As you slowly moved up and down his length he took your face in his hands, wanting to see every little face you made.

Kakashi reached a hand out for your breast, the other rubbing your clit, causing you to move faster on him. The faster you moved the harder it was to hold himself back. Before you could object Kakashi lifted your body, holding you up and bucking his hips into you. As you grew closer to your climax you threw your head back. “I’m-I’m gonna come Kashi.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lip. “Come for me baby girl.”

Your walls clamped around him and within a couple of seconds he was sent over the edge. His thrusts slowed as he shot thick ropes of cum onto your walls.

You both caught our breath and you laid your head on his shoulder. He kissed the side of your head. “Maybe we should have sex in my office more often?”

You chuckled softly. “Don’t get used to that Kakashi.”

He stayed silent for a second. “I know I should be home more often and I’m sorry.” He ran his hand down my back. “I promise I’ll try to be home more.”

You kissed his neck. “I believe you Kakashi.”

He pushed your hair back from your face. “Wanna go home and go for round two?”

Naruto Content Taglist 💕 @chidori-mint @praisingkuroosbedhead

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jisvnq · 5 years ago

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[ 04:12AM ]

title | movie marathon

genre | fluff, humor, a bit suggestive, older brother!jaemin

warnings | swearing, one quite detailed kiss

word count | 1.8k

requested | by anonymous

description | where jaemin banned you from the dorms, but you sneak in one night to watch frozen and makeout with jisung anyways.

z.txt | i wrote this quite hurriedly and it was supposed to be posted on jaemin's birthday, but our electricity decided to die 💀 so here it is now, i guess~

"WHAT THE HOLY FU—"

"SHH!" you said urgently, putting your finger up to your lips as Jisung covered his mouth with his own hand. "Jisung, be quie—"

"HEY! Park Jisung!" Renjun's voice came from the next room, knocking loudly on the thin plywood wall separating the two bedrooms. "Quiet down, will you?!"

"S- sorry!" Jisung called back, staring at you with his eyes wide in shock as you haphazardly kicked off your shoes and hopped onto his bed.

He then gave you a look of disbelief, when you just began snuggling under his covers and into his arms with a small grin.

"You!" Jisung whispered scoldingly, setting his laptop down beside him as you made yourself comfy in his lap. "What the— what the absolute hell are you doing in here?"

"I missed you," you mumbled, resting your head against his chest, hearing his quickly beating heart. "All I could do was think of you, but it made me miss you so much I couldn't sleep."

"That's no reason to be here," Jisung said, his actions contradicting his words as he wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug. "You're supposed to be asleep!"

"Hey," you huffed, hitting his forearms lightly. "You're supposed to be asleep too. You told me you were already getting ready to sleep when I called you earlier."

You looked up at him with narrowed eyes and he offers you a bashful grin that made you sigh. "Besides, what are you doing at this hour that made you lie to me? Huh, Park Jisung?"

"Renjun gave me a clear copy of Frozen and Frozen 2," Jisung said sheepishly after your slight scolding. "I was planning on watching it with you next time you came over so I'm checking it out now..."

"Aww," you cooed, reaching up to pinch his cheeks that reddened as quickly as your change in demeanor. "That's so cute~ but Jaemin kicked me out of the dorms the last time he caught us kissing. When do you expect us to have this little marathon of yours?"

When Jisung remained silent, you shook your head, taking his hands in yours.

"Why don't we have the mini-marathon now then?" You suggested.

"Now?" Jisung gave you a look. "You sure we won't get caught? Jaemin will kill the both of us if he finds you in here..."

"Nah," you said with a snort, taking his laptop and placing it back in front of the two of you. "Jaemin won't kill you, he loves you too much. Probably even more than he loves me, but that doesn't matter. I love you more than I love my brother too. I'll restart the video now~"

Jisung wasn't able to say anything with how quickly you changed topics, nothing more than an incredulous laugh able to come out of his mouth. Shaking his head as you excitedly pressed the space bar, to play the video all over again, he rested his head on the top of yours and his eyes gazed down at the bright screen that now played the Disney intro.

You wrapped his arms tighter around you as you felt colder. The warmth his body radiated very much comfortable as the night's chilly air circulated around the room. There wasn't much noise coming from the two of you, who were quite focused on the movie, aside from the bright chuckles and giggles that slipped through your mouths while watching, plus the little teasing side-comments that none of you really took to heart.

"Psh. Kristoff isn't even that good looking."

"Shut up or I'm telling the guys you have a crush on Anna."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me, pumpkin."

But halfway through the first movie, that focus didn't last long. Not with Jisung, at least.

If he was going to be totally honest, Renjun had given him the copy of the two movies nearly a week ago. Jisung has already been able to memorize the script and all the songs solely from how many times he's replayed and rewatched the movies.

Every night, he watched them out of complete boredom, as you were banned from the dorm by your brother, who had the misfortune to walk in on one of the many makeout sessions the two of you had.

Though usually, Jaemin would do his best to pretend not to mind you getting all touchy with each other, stating that you were your own people, but you were getting too touchy feely even for his comfort. And so, he decided to ban you from coming over to the dorms for a whole month out of sheer exasperation.

Which, of course, being the naturally clingy person you were, had you whining about it over the phone whenever he had called you. Jisung was honestly surprised you managed to make it to week two before breaking and entering into his room. And it wasn't like he didn't miss you either. He just preferred to play safe so he wouldn't have to get his ass beaten up by Jaemin.

So right now, as he had you square in his lap, comfortably nestled between his arms and against his chest, he found it extremely difficult not to flip you over and pin you down onto his bed so he could kiss the living shit out of you. But he knew you were tired from climbing in through his window, and kissing you would risk the chances of getting caught by your brother at this hour. The last thing he wanted was for you to get kicked out for an even longer period of time.

If he could barely last half a month without having you all to himself, he didn't even want to know how much longer he could.

"Mm," you hummed, feeling Jisung squirm under you. "You good there, Ji?"

"Y- yeah, of course," Jisung said with a cough, squeezing your hands and nuzzling his nose into your hair. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know," you said with a giggle when he inhaled, sighing satisfactorily as he smelled the familiar scent of your shampoo that he missed oh-so much. "Maybe you— h- hey!"

You gasped, feeling his warm hands let go of your cold ones to slip under your shirt, his arms pulling you even closer to him, up higher on his lap, so his lips were level with your neck. "I- I'm actually trying to focus on- on the movie for once!"

Jisung let out a low chuckle as he pressed a feathery kiss to the space between your jaw and your ear and making you squirm. He loved moments like this. Moments where it was him who flustered you, taking you by surprise instead of the other way around like it usually is. "Then focus on the movie, love. No one's telling you not to."

He felt your sharp intake of breath and a smirk made its way onto his face, confidence surging through him like adrenaline as he continued kissing along your jaw down to your neck, his thumbs rubbing circles onto the bared skin of your hips. Two whole weeks of not being able to do anything more than innocent hand holding, sweet cheek kisses, and quick pecks on the lips in the school hallways must have taken its toll on him.

Maybe he was exaggerating and two weeks wasn't much. But he was a growing teenager, and he figured that as much as he needed to eat, he craved for your touch, he craved to touch you. And to say he ate a lot was an understatement.

"Jisung," he heard you whimper quietly, warningly as he began to nibble on your neck, his teeth leaving small red marks on the skin. "Wh- what do you think you're doing?"

"I missed you too much," the boy mumbled, his eyes shamelessly staring down at your lips when you turn around to face him. "Can- can I?"

You nodded and he slowly leaned in, sighing when your lips finally met his. It was slow yet intense, one of his hands settling on the small of your back to gently push you up against him, the other carefully holding the back of your head, guiding your movements to match his.

His tongue slid across your bottom lip and soon he was biting down softly, eliciting a small gasp from you. He used this to his advantage, his tongue slipping into your mouth to meet yours and tracing along the rows of your teeth. Your fingers intertwined with the tufts of his hair as he tilted your head to the side, and you felt his breath hitch when you tugged on the dark strands, the faint sound of the movie playing in the background fading away as you got lost in each other.

But he leaned back rather suddenly, causing the back of his head to hit the headboard with enough force to make a loud bang resound throughout the room, abruptly breaking the kiss as he groaned in pain.

"Ow," Jisung whined, wincing as he held the back of his head. "S- stop- stop laughing! It really hurts!"

"Sorry, Ji," you said, stifling your giggles and bringing your hand up to where his rested, gently massaging the aching bump that began to form on his head. "It was kinda funny though."

"It ruined the mood," the boy pouted, making you laugh. He huffed. "Hey! I said stop laughing! I'm serious here!"

"Alright, pumpkin," you said endearingly, leaning up to press a kiss to his head and turning to the laptop whose screen showed the ending credits of the previous movie. "Let's go watch the next one now, shall we?"

Jisung gave you a sheepish smile. "Right, the movie marathon... but maybe we could do something else instea—?"

"Park Jisung," a groggy voice said as the door opened. "Renjun was complaining about your noise and told me to go check on you. You think you can put your movie marathon on hold tonight?"

"I— uh— yeah," Jisung stuttered in panic, quickly pushing you off his lap. "I was— I was gonna stop anyways—"

"Good," Jaemin grumbled, rubbing his eyes and yawning. "Night, Jisungie. Night, Y/nnie."

"Night, Jaeminnie—" you called back with a snicker before Jisung could put a hand over your mouth.

"Sleep well and—" Jaemin did a double take on the way out and turned around, to see you sitting next to Jisung on his bed, the younger boy covering your mouth with a distressed look on his face. You waved at your brother. "Hold the fuck up. Y/nnie?! How the hell did you get in here?!"

"Uh, I sleep-walked through Jisung's window?"

"Na Y/n."

"Whoopsies?"

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maysbanks · 5 years ago

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hypersonic missiles. (jj maybank)

hello ! some of you may recognise this fic and that’s bc it’s currently being rewritten as an oc fic rather than a reader insert fic which it was before. i can’t wait for you to read this and introduce you all to haley who i love dearly, so pls enjoy and lemme know what you think !!

warnings: swearing, mention of sex, sexual innuendos, drug use, underage drinking, violence etc

summary: after the death of her father, haley grubbs is determined to get the answers her mother seems to be keeping from her, seeking help from a group of pogues (which just happens to include her weekly hook-up) and unknowingly throwing herself into the midst of a treasure hunt.

( gif isn't mine! please let me know if it's yours so i can credit you. )

The gang gathered around John B's porch, spaced out in various positions amongst the furniture. Silence engulfed the group, the air thick with tension as none of the four teenagers dared to speak.

"JJ should be the one to go." Kie broke the silence, her words hanging in the air as the group processed them.

Said boy whipped around in his place, golden hair falling in his sea blue eyes as they widened, glancing wildly between each of his friends. "What?" He demanded. "Why me?"

"Because you're the one that's hooking up with her," Pope reminded, matter of fact. As if JJ needed to be reminded. The dark skinned boy gestured between him and the remaining two. "She's gonna trust you more than any of us."

Kiara and John B murmured their agreement, JJ scoffing as he flapped his arms, beginning to pace in his spot. "This is ridiculous," he muttered between gritted teeth. "She won't wanna talk to me any more than she'll want to talk to you guys. I mean, we've only hooked up like," JJ paused - raising a hand to count on his fingers. "Maybe like, eleven times, twelve at a push!"

Kiara scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Wow, how chivalrous of you to keep count, JJ," she drawled sarcastically, the blonde boy simply shrugging in return as he took his formal position of leaning against the Chateau's wall. "Look, the thing is you know her better than the rest of us. You're familiar, we're not. We can't just go up to her and start asking questions about her dead dad and John B's compass."

JJ stared in disbelief. "And you think I can?" He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know if you guys realise this, but hooking up doesn't really require much talking. I barely know her."

"But you know her enough to warm her bed every week," John B piped up, narrowing his eyes at his best friend. JJ sighed, lighting a fresh blunt as he refused to meet any of the gang's eyes, staring ahead. John B stepped over and beside the blonde, arm thrown over his shoulder. "We need answers, JJ. Answers she could have. I mean, it was her dad right? She must know something about why he had my dad's compass."

JJ nodded along, but the uncertain feeling bubbling in his chest didn't cease. Thoughts of the two men that had chased the group the day before, guns blazing, entered his mind. Then the memory of him and John B showing up at the Grubbs' residence, only to discover they had been beaten to it by the very same men - he'd heard them threaten Lana and Haley Grubbs, demanding questions about the same compass that lay heavy in John B's pockets. He knew his best friend deserved answers, why did Scooter Grubbs have Big John's compass the night he died? Why was Scooter Grubbs out in the storm that night anyway? Hell, even JJ wanted answers. But he couldn't shake the doubtful feeling, thoughts of Haley Grubbs swirling in his head.

"I don't think this is a good idea." He tried once more, voice small and defeated. The Pogues shared a glance, and he knew they'd already come to a decision. Sighing, he flicked the butt of his blunt, sending it flying in the opposite direction. "Fine, I'll go talk to her. But I'm not making any promises that she'll talk," he frowned. "Sometimes I kinda get the feeling she doesn't like me."

Kie snorted. "I wonder why."

What the gang hadn't bargained for, however, was that the same person who'd they been talking about was already on their way to them - boots stomping across the ground in a determined stride, their mind a whirlwind of series of memories, scenarios, and all the events that had happened in the last twenty four hours.

Haley wanted answers, and she wanted them soon. (Sooner rather than later, if she was being precise.) The series of misfortunes events had all begun with the disappearance of her father - for whatever reason, he'd gone out in the storm that raged against the Outer Banks the night prior, and that, unsurprisingly, had led to his death. Memories of his body, washed up on the shore, cold and blue, eyes open but completely lifeless as they stared up at nothing and everything at the same time. Her heart wrenched at the sight, and she still hadn't been able to get the scene out of your head - her mother breaking down in a heap of sobs, Haley’s body following along with her as the pair both held each other and cried, Sheriff Peterkin's voice echoing in Haley’s mind, over and over again, like a siren. “I'm so sorry. There's nothing we could have done."

Haley knew that, of course. But it didn't explain why he was out in the storm in the first place. She had tried to question her mother, because she knew her dad wasn't a fool. Storm Agatha had been reported for weeks following up to it, he'd even made off-handed comments about it over dinner a couple of times. Her dad was aware about the storm, but had still risked his life (and coincidentally, ended it) to take a boat ride, or so that's what her mother told you.

Bull-fucking-shit. Haley knew there was more to the story, the appearance of two men breaking down her door and trashing her whole house was enough proof of that. And the fact that they were asking about a compass, of all things, didn't sit right in Haley’s gut either. Why the hell would two thugs want a compass, and why would her dad have it anyway? To her knowledge, her dad had never owned a compass in his damned life. (He also never owned a boat, which raised the suspicion of how the hell had he even gone out on a boat ride in the first place.) But the pair were persistent, and she was forced to watch as they threatened her and her mom, their last words sticking with her, sending a shiver of dread up her spine every time they echoed in her head; “We'll be back."

It was something straight out of a king-pin movie, and yet Lana Grubbs still wouldn't talk. She knew something, Haley knew it, and why she wouldn't share whatever information she knew with Haley was beyond frustrating - so she decided, fuck it. If her mother wasn't gonna give her her answers, then she was gonna go out and find them herself. Starting with John B. Routledge.

As if things couldn't have gotten any weirder, the teenaged boy had shown up not a minute after the two guys had left, appearing in Haley’s not-so-much of a doorway with the exact thing the thugs were after: the Compass. To her chargin, she hadn't had time to ask any questions though, her mother was quick to dismiss him (and JJ Maybank of all people, but she didn't really want to think about him at the moment) and warned him not to let anyone know that he had the compass, and Haley could see why - those guys were not to be messed with.

And so, John B. Routledge had left the Grubbs’ home, JJ Maybank in tow, and Haley was left to clean up the mess the bastards had left behind them. Her mothers warning rang in her ears; "Stay away from them boys. Do not get involved in this, Hales.” But alas, there she was, storming towards the property she knew the guys would be. Her mother didn't know, of course, and she was determined to make sure Lana never did. (Haley would be the next person she'd be burying if she ever did find it.)

All Haley wanted was answers, and if John B had even a couple, she was going to find them out. Her father had died, and there was more to the story than anyone was letting on. If it was up to her to piece the puzzle together, then so be it. She would, gladly.

So she marched in the direction of the Routledge residence, more determined than ever. As she walked, people gave her pitying looks, obviously recognising her as Scooter Grubbs’ daughter (the newfound bastard of the Outer Banks, sarcasm intended.) and she simply ignored each and every one of them. She didn’t need them, she thought. She was going to find out the truth, and each step Haley took she was closer to uncovering it all. Some people walked towards her as if to stop and talk, probably attempting to give her some kind of condolence, but each time a person did she hurried her pace; she couldn’t be stopped now, she was too close to getting where she wanted to be for some middle-aged folk tell her they were sorry about her loss, even though they couldn’t have cared less about her dad when he was alive.

Fucking bullshit, she thought.

Haley’s stride slowed however, when a familiar looking van made it's way into her vision, memories of it parked outside the very same house she was planning on going running through her already overactive mind. Her stomach churned, thinking she had missed her chance to interrogate the poor unsuspecting boy, before it seemed to slow down and pulled up to right where she was standing on the curb. Her respectively plucked eyebrows raised as the window rolled down, revealing none other than John B sat in the drivers seat, Kiara Carrera in the passenger, and Pope Heyward's and JJ's heads peering around the pair from the back of the van.

John B leaned out, his mop of wavy brown hair entering Haley’s brown eyed gaze, tight smile on his lips. "Haley,” he greeted. “Hey, where are you off to? Need a ride?"

"Actually," Haley drawled as she stepped closer, right arm leaning on the window as she sent a forced smile the teenaged boys way. “I was just heading over to yours. What a coincidence, huh?"

She never missed the look Kiara shot the two guys seated in the back, all of their eyes seemingly communicating in their own weird little telepathical way. John B blinked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water for a few seconds before he seemed to compose himself, clearing his throat. "Oh, really?" He asked, as naturally as he could. (It wasn't very natural at all.) “How, uh, how come?"

"Oh, you know," Haley started, shrugging a shoulder nonchalantly. "Just thought I'd pay you a visit, y'know, like the one you paid me this morning. Remember that?" She asked as innocently as she could manage. (It wasn't very innocent at all.) “Just wanted to ask you a few questions, s'all. Like why you have the one thing those meatheads that trashed my house were after. How you got hold of it, stuff like that."

And then she smiled like they were all sharing a perfectly civil conversation, as if the underlying threatening tone in her voice didn't exist at all. John B sighed, his head turning towards the rest of the group, catching their eyes and seeming to have another one of their telepathic conversations before he turned back to her figure, his head nodding towards the back of his infamous Volkswagen.

"Get in the back," he said - and she did, shooting him a smile that resembled one of a Cheshire Cat, satisfied as she moved to the other side, walking around the van and hearing him mutter from inside, "What? This is the perfect opportunity to ask her." She didn't need to look to know the rest of the gang were probably objecting her presence, but she couldn't care less. This was just the first step to getting what she wanted.

The door to the van was pulled open from the inside, JJ's head popping out and thrusting a hand out towards her to help her climb into the vehicle. Haley swiftly ignored the gesture, missing the flash of confusion and offence that appeared on the blonde's face, climbing into the van and seating herself beside Pope who smiled rather awkwardly toward her.

"I'm, uh, sorry about your dad," he said softly, fidgeting under her gaze. She smiled slightly at him in return, lips quirking more so in amusement at his obvious discomfort at either having her join them, or her being seated so close to him.

"Yeah, me too," Kiara piped up from the passenger seat, glancing over her shoulder towards her. "It must really suck, to just lose him like that."

Haley nodded, head turning in the direction of where JJ sat across from her, rubbing the back of his head as he muttered quietly, "Yeah, I'm sorry too." before averting his eyes when she looked at him, raising her eyebrows.

Kiara ignored him, the awkward silence that presented itself to the pedestrians inside the van only lasting a couple of seconds as she spoke up again. "I can't imagine what you and your mom are going through," she said, soft brown eyes darting to John B quickly before they returned to catch Haley’s once more. "We're always here if you need anything. Pogue's look out for each other, right?"

Haley forced a small smile, not bothering to bring up the fact that Kiara was technically not a Pogue, seeing no point in the matter as she sent her a small nod of appreciation, silently grateful for her words. Haley had always liked Kiara, or Kie, as she was more commonly known as. She had spent many times sat around a fire with her, listening to her rants about the environment and what everyone could do to help it, as an infamous Pogue kegger loomed around them. Haley was grateful for her presence amongst the guys, unsure of the fact that if she wasn't there, she probably wouldn't have entered the van. She was determined, but she also wasn’t stupid. Despite knowing the guys well and practically all her life, (it’s a small town kinda thing), she would never willingly get in a van with them and let them drive her to an unknown destination. Which reminded her suddenly - where the hell were they going?

"We're lucky we got each other, I guess," Haley said in relation to Kie's words. Kie nodded as her eyes darted to John B again. "But thanks, I really appreciate it." She fiddled with the hem of her faded out jean shorts, her next words directed towards John B. "So, care to tell me where we're going? Or better yet, why you have the damned compass my house was trashed for."

Silence filled the air of the Volkswagen. It was suffocating, the air thick with unspoken tension as everybody refused to meet her eyes. Haley was beyond frustrated, incredibly so, and she made a point to catch John B's eyes in the rearview mirror, an eyebrow quirking as she awaited an answer.

Finally, he sighed.

"The compass was my dads," John B revealed. Haley’s mouth opened in shock for a second before she clamped it back shut. "And for whatever reason, your dad had it. We uh, we found it at the wreck of your dads boat yesterday."

"Wait, what?" She demanded, blinking. She glanced between the gang, eyes accusing as she held each of theirs. "You guys found the wreck? And you didn't tell anyone?" She questioned, tone dangerously low. "And you stole from it?"

"It's not technically stealing if it was his compass," JJ defended, shrugging. Haley shot him a glare, feeling a bubble of irritation build deep in her gut. "And anyways, we tried to tell the coastguard about it after we first found it, but the guy was having none of it. They were hounded with the storm."

Her eyes narrowed. "First found it? Exactly how many times have you guys been at the wreck?" She demanded, tone accusatory.

The gang all swivelled to send JJ their own respected glares, Pope's voice small from beside her as he tried to explain. "Only a couple," he started, startling as her head whipped around towards him. "We're really sorry, okay! We didn't know it was your dads when we first found it, if we did, we wouldn't have snooped in his room either!"

Pope seemed to make note of his mistake as the rest of the gang did, Kie letting out a little frustrated groan from the back of her throat as JJ cringed, pointedly avoiding Haley’s gaze. John B's hands gripped the steering wheel tight, a warning "Pope" leaving his mouth.

Haley laughed, though it held no humour. She clasped her hands together, the slap of her palms meeting echoing in the confine space. "Let me get this straight, you guys not only found the wreck of my dads boat and didn't tell anyone about it, but also obviously found where he was staying and snooped in his room," she listed, feeling the familiar build of rage pulse through her body. “I mean, what the fuck you guys?"

"We're sorry," Kiara turned in her seat, meeting the Grubbs’ girl angered gaze. "We swear, if we had any idea it was your dad we wouldn't have. We were just, curious, I guess. We found the key on the boat when Pope first spotted it in the marsh, and before we even snooped we tried to tell the coastguard, but like JJ said, they weren't interested. So, John B and JJ went to look in the room."

Haley sighed heavily, leaning her head back to rest against the wall of the van. She tried to tell herself to calm down - hell, she probably would have done the same thing if it was her in their position, she couldn't get mad at them over that. "And did you guys find anything?" She asked quietly, the gang seemingly relaxing as they recognised her calmer tone of voice.

"Did we find anything?" JJ snorted as he repeated her words, grin falling from his lips at the glares the rest of his friends shot him. Haley sat up straighter, taking note of their warning glances. JJ awkwardly coughed, rubbing the back of his neck as he once again avoided her honey coated eyes. "Uh, not really."

"Not really?" She asked, frown on her plump lips. JJ nodded, tongue darting out to wet his pink lips, uncharacteristically quiet once more. "Okay, what the hell is going on? And no more bullshitting me, I've had enough of that from everyone else for the past forty eight hours. I came to you for answers, I'm not going anywhere without them."

She looked to John B then, hoping, pleading, that he would understand. He'd lost his dad too, nine months ago, supposedly lost at sea, believed to be dead. Haley knew he never believed that though, refusing to agree that his father was dead, insisting that he was simply missing. If there was one person that could understand her need to know about her dad, it was John B. And he knew it too, as he sighed and nodded.

"There was a safe," he started as she listened intently. "There was money inside it, I don't know how much. The cops kinda showed up when we were in there," he admitted sheepishly. "We had to hide before we could count it or anything. But there was also, um, a gun in the safe too."

"A gun?" Haley deadpanned. John B raised his eyes and caught hers, nodding. Haley scoffed in disbelief, running a hand through her almost waist length hair. "Why the hell would my dad have a gun?"

"Um, there's something else you should probably know," JJ blurted. "I kinda, uh, took it."

The Pogues glared at him again, Kie spitting a warning of his name, but the blonde just looked at the girl seated in front of him. Her eyes widened as he brandished the piece of metal, black in colour and daunting in shape. Of fucking course JJ Maybank had stolen her dads gun, she thought. It was so... JJ.

"You stole that from a crime scene?" She sputtered, heart squeezing uncomfortably in her chest as she eyed the object with disdain. JJ nodded, looking almost guilty. "My dads crime scene? What the fuck JJ? Do you realise how much trouble you could get into from taking that? For having that?"

Haley was unsure as to why she seemed to care so much about that, rather than the fact that he'd taken it from her dads motel room, and that the gun was technically her fathers. She didn't want to ponder too much about that, though, there was bigger fish to fry in that moment.

"Sorry," he said, rather dumbly. "You can have it, if you want?"

She stared at him incredulously as he held the gun out towards her, quickly shoving it away from her body as she shook her head forcefully. "What the fuck would I want with a gun, JJ?" Haley demanded. The blonde boy shrugged, suddenly sheepish.

"It was your dads," he stated simply. From the corner of her vision she could see Pope sending him a wild look, brown eyes blown wide as he tried to be subtle and shake his head at his friend, silently warning him to shut the hell up, or so she presumed. "I just thought, y'know-"

"You thought wrong, JJ," Haley interrupted him before he could continue. His eyebrows furrowed as he noted her hostile tone, but let it go as he simply nodded, swallowing thickly when she turned away from him. “So, what happened, after the motel room?"

John B looked glad to be back on the original topic. "Well, it wasn't long after that we found it was your dad. We were gonna tell the police, but uh, we had this crazy idea that there might have been more on the boat, like money or something? I don't know, we just thought-"

"Your dad might've been a straight smuggler," Pope piped up. Haley’s glare made him shrink in his spot. "Sorry, sorry. Not the time, I get it."

"Right," John B said curtly as Kie groaned softly. "So we went to look again, and I found a duffel bag. The marsh was closed, obviously. But we weren't the only ones out there," his voice turned deadly serious. “After I got it, these two guys appeared on a boat. The same two guys that were at your place earlier."

Haley exhaled shakily at the information, memories of the two men entering her mind unwelcoming. The image of them carelessly tearing apart her house, screaming threats at her and her mother, gun held to her temple as their fists left holes in the walls and bruises on her mothers skin. She shuddered and hoped the rest of the gang hadn't noticed, but she could see the pity in John B's eyes as they reconnected with her own.

"They chased after us, and they were shooting at us too. We managed to escape them, and when we got back on land I looked in the bag, and all that was in it was the compass. My dads compass. It's a Routledge family heirloom, and your dad had it."

His tone held accusatory, though she couldn't blame him for it. It was a mystery to even her as to why or how her father had gotten hold of the compass, and she knew John B wanted answers just as much as she did. Haley felt almost guilty that she couldn't give him any as she spoke up, “I didn't know anything about it, I swear. The first time I've even heard of it was today when those guys showed up. I'm sorry, John B."

Said boy nodded, seemingly believing her as he sent a small smile her way, reassuring her. “Anyways, that's why me and JJ went to your place, I just wanted to know if maybe you or your mom knew anything about it or why your dad had it," he shrugged a shoulder, trying to come off as non-chalant. "And that's when we saw those guys again. I'm sorry about that, by the way."

She shrugged too, an expression of what-you-gonna-do on her face. Though she desperately wanted to know more about the compass, and why it could be so important to the thugs, she withheld her questions for the moment, deciding they could come later.

"And then they arrived at mine," John B revealed. Haley’s yes widened in surprise at the sudden revelation, churning of fear twisting at her gut. "They did the exact same at my place that they did to yours; tore the whole place apart, looking the compass I guess."

JJ burst then - Haley jumped as his voice echoed in the van, much more louder than what John B's had been, excitement lacing his tone as he began to recite the story of the two thugs and their mission of tearing John B's poor beloved Chateau apart, hands gesturing wildly around him.

"Yeah, they were fucking crazy man! We were all locked in Big John's office, no way out apart from the window that was fucking painted shut. We could hear them, taunting us, y'know. Like, 'you better not be in there', they even knew John B's name!" JJ rambled, excitable expression painted on his boyish features. "They come in, guns-a-blazing and we're all tryna figure out how the hell to get out of there, before we finally manage to open the window and hide in the fucking chicken coop of all places. It was fucking insane, man. I had to kill a hen just so we could make it out alive."

Haley blinked at that, her jaw dropping slightly as she tried to process all the information he'd thrown at her all within a minute. JJ calmed down from his passionate retale, chest heaving slightly as he took in her dazed expression, sea blue eyes catching hers and holding them. Kiara said his name in a warning tone from the passenger seat, and he snapped out of his stare-off with the olive skinned girl, but she was still looking at him in disbelief.

"That's basically it," John B said from the front of the van, though his face held a slight grimace at his best friends rather dramatic recite. "But yeah, they practically stripped my dads office bare. They took everything, all of his books, research, everything about the Royal Merchant."

If anybody had noticed her sudden stiff posture at the mention of the Merchant, they never spoke on it. The Royal Merchant. Something Haley was all too familiar with. It had been something of a fascination to her father for a while, especially in the weeks leading up to his death. She just thought it was a weird hobby, a strange interest of his that she never really thought much of. It was nice to see her dad passionate about something, she’d thought. No matter how strange she believed it to be, he had a hobby and she was happy for him. But, sitting in the back of John B. Routledge's van, surrounded by a group of teenaged Pogues, one of which she was were all too familiar with, to put it simply, her throat tightened.

Surely the Royal Merchant couldn't have had anything to do with her dad, right? She was just thinking too much, more than likely. But something in the back of her mind was nagging, unforgiving as the thoughts whirled in her head.

"But before the guys showed up, we found something," she focused back her attention as John B continued. "There's something engraved on the compass. Redfield. It's my dads handwriting, he must have put it there for me, before he disappeared."

Haley shared a glance with JJ as John B said the word. Disappeared. Ever the hopeful, yearning boy. She couldn't doubt his wish, she wished for nothing more for her dad to appear back in her life - but she knew that hers was dead, officially. How could she forget, she saw his lifeless eyes every time she closed hers.

But John B didn't have that, he never knew, really, if his father was truly dead or alive. The records said so, but he'd refused to sign them, or so she heard. He was still hopeful, so certain that his dad would just appear back at the Chateau one day, like he'd never disappeared in the first place. But Haley - and many others - were realistic, and the reality was there was very little to no chance that Big John Routledge was alive.

(Her heart broke for the boy.)

She tuned out the rest of the conversation for the remainder of the drive, her head leaning back on the cool metal of the wall as she closed her eyes and allowed her mind to wander with all the possibilities. Could the Royal Merchant really have been a factor in her dads death? She couldn't shake the feeling, as she could hear vaguely the conversation of the gang. John B insisting that his dad was leading him on a mission, Kiara trying to be supportive but anyone could pick up on the doubt in her voice, Pope piping up with rather unhelpful scenarios like Big John having been kidnapped, (Haley had rolled her eyes), and JJ adding his input, multitasking with rolling a blunt. (She’d rolled her eyes harder.)

The thing was, Haley and the Maybank boy had a little deal going on. She could remember the exact day it had begun, at an infamous Pogue kegger, the sun having set and leaving the sky coloured in perfect hues of pink, purple and yellow. It had been a beautiful night, she had to admit. The party had gone strong to the early hours of the morning, and she’d somehow found herself leaving with JJ Maybank. He'd approached her after she witnessed him striking out with a Touron, (surprisingly), eyes narrowing at her when she’d let out a giggle at his misfortune. He had been hostile at first, demanding what she was laughing at, grinning slightly when she informed him simply 'you'.

The rest of the night had been spent in each others company, and Haley could recall the exact moment where they were dancing closely, bodies pressed tight against each other, her arms thrown over his shoulders and wrapped around his neck, his own around her waist, fingers digging into her hips. Their breath mingled together, his forehead leaning against her own, and she’d expected the moment his lips fell on herd, slightly chapped but impossibly soft against her own as they danced in a passionate embrace that secretly took her breath away. She’d let him lead her to John B's Chateau across the beach, hand gripped in one another’s, as he pressed her to every surface until they managed to stumble their way into the spare bedroom.

She had told herself the next morning that it would only be a one time thing. Haley wasn’t one for random hook-ups, not that no one had tried to coax her into one. She was kinda known amongst the island as being this untouchable, obtainable person that nobody could ever get close to. She wasn’t sure what it was about her that made everyone label her as this being - maybe it was the fact that she was a loner and didn’t stick to one friendship group and spent most of her time to herself, maybe it was the fact that people thought she was weird because her dad was known to be such a loser (God rest his soul), or maybe it was the fact that she skateboarded around town morning till dawn, earphones plugged in and music blasting so loud that passerby’s could hear every word clearly.

The point was, she wasn’t known for getting close to anyone. And yet, she had found herself drifting back to JJ Maybank many other nights after that first one, and that’s where their little deal came into play.

But that's where it began, and also where it ended. Hers and JJ's relationship (if you could even call it that) never went beyond that. Random hook-ups here and there, whenever JJ struck out with a Touron and found himself soughting Haley out amongst the crowd to fill the space in his bed. Of course they were always friendly with each other, they’d known each other for so long, that it would have been silly not to continue being friendly. But they never hung out, not with his group, not with him alone apart from their many nights of endeavours, until now, she supposed. She thought it might have been weird, and she thought correct. Neither of them really looked at each other head-on, the air awkward and thick as the driving continued.

Haley was thankful when John B seemed to finally arrive at his destination, and she leaned forward with Pope to glance out the window, spotting the tall lighthouse stood proud in front of the group. Redfield, the name was written boldly on display.

"Redfield Lighthouse," John B spoke. "My dads favourite place."

She clambered from the van as the rest of the guys did, gazing up at the high building with her hand shielding her eyes from the bright sun from where they all gathered at the clearing. John B turned to face JJ. "Right, you're gonna post up and look out for bogeys, okay?"

JJ's eyebrows furrowed as he demanded, "Wait, why me?" His expression only darkened when Pope informed he wasn't to go in the Lighthouse, Haley watching from the sidelines, unsure where to put herseld in the situation. "Why?" He continued to argue.

Pope grabbed hold of JJ's shoulders. "There are independent and dependent variables, you're an independent variable-" he tried to explain but was quickly cut off as JJ began to yell over his words. "We don't know what you'll do!"

"Shut up!"

Haley awkwardly scuffed her boots on the ground as Kiara sent her a small smile from ahead of the boys, rolling her eyes dramatically when Haley caught them. She smiled at the gesture, once again appreciative of her presence. "Listen to me for a second," John B cut in their argument, stepping forward. "Pope, you stand look out with JJ, okay?" The pair in questioned seemed reluctant, but both nodded at John B's persistent glare. The tall brunette turned to her next, gaze softening immensely when he caught sight of her uncertain posture. "Do you mind keeping an eye out here?"

She shook your head immediately, sending him a reassuring nod. "Yeah, sure. That's fine by me. Heights aren't really my thing anyway," she told him as she looked up at the Lighthouse, nausea hitting at a slight force when she stared at the very top of the building amongst the blue sky. "Yeah, I'm good here."

He nodded back at her, a thankful smile on his lips. "If we split up, we meet back at JJ's house." He spoke, directing the words to the whole group. They all nodded their agreement.

"Great." Kie finalised, shooting Haley one last small smile before her and John B began to walk off, jumping the small fence that blocked their path, their stride quickly entering them into the lighthouse. Haley exhaled as they disappeared into the door, and moved her gaze to return on the two boys she was stuck with.

"I'm gonna work on my merit scholarship essay." Pope informed, before he turned and entered back into the van, leaving her and JJ stood on the outside of it, alone and deadly quiet. She looked at the golden haired boy as he pulled out a happy sack from his pocket, beginning to kick it around with his booted foot.

Haley sighed as she leaned on the passenger side door, her teeth biting down on her watermelon flavoured chapstick covered lip as she stared at the grass beneath her feet, her mind racing. A thud caught her attention and she glanced in the direction of where it had come from, a happy sack laying at her feet. She looked back up to JJ, who sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Um, sorry about that."

She huffed out a small laugh, bending down and snatching the sack from the floor. "You don't have to apologise to me JJ," she said softly. Throwing the sack back to him, his large hands reached out and cupped it, bringing it back to his chest. “I'm sorry about this, y'know, gatecrashing your friends' little adventure."

JJ's lips quirked, his muscular arm reaching back and throwing the sack into the air, Haley catching it and holding his eyes. "You're not gatecrashing anything," he assured. In the sunlight, his skin cast a golden glow. "And 'sides you deserve to be here. You're looking for just as much answers as John B is."

"I'm not sure about that," Haley told him and threw the sack to him. "I mean, I'm looking for answers, of course. That's why I'm here. But I'm pretty sure John B needs them more than I do," she glanced at the lighthouse momentarily. "I know what happened to my dad, pretty much. He died while being out in the storm, I know that, I just don't know why he was out in the storm or what he was even up to in the weeks leading up to it. John B doesn't even know for sure if his dad is dead or alive." She shuddered at the thought, shaking her head. "He deserves answers way more than me."

JJ nodded, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek as he paused in throwing the sack back towards her, looking at her small figure thoughtfully. "Do you think they could be connected?" He asked suddenly. Haley stared at him, confusion painted on her face. "Your dads, I mean. Yours and John B's. Do you think they could be connected, like your dads death and JB's dads disappearance?"

She stopped. Could they be, really? She had to admit she thought about it in the van on the journey there, but as quickly as it came it passed. To her knowledge, her dad and Big John didn't really know each other - of course they knew each other, but they didn't mix, or so she believed. But her mind replayed the moment John B mentioned the Royal Merchant, the way her stomach had filled with dread immediately, and she had the sinking feeling that it was very possible that what JJ was hinting at could be true.

"I don't know, maybe," she said instead, not wanting to voice her thoughts. JJ nodded thoughtfully, finally throwing her the sack back. She caught it, and repeated the process back to him again.

"I am sorry, though. About your dad," JJ's voice was soft, careful as he watched her pause, taking in his words. "I was gonna say more before, but with the guys... I know how much he meant to you."

Haley smiled gently, a sudden flutter in her chest alarming her as she nodded appreciatively at his words. "Thank you, JJ," she said quietly, sincerely. "It means a lot."

JJ nodded too, chapped lips pulling into an uncertain half-grin. "And I just wanted to say as well, that uh, I don't want things to be like, weird between us or anything," he stated awkwardly, clearing his throat. Haley almost laughed at the look on his face. "I mean, like, with us hooking up and stuff-"

"It won't be weird," Haley quickly interrupted him, grin overtaking the features of her face despite her better thoughts. "It was just hooking up, right? Not like we're exes or anything. No need to make it weird."

"Right," JJ voiced his agreement. Head full of long blonde locks nodding along at her words, dimples winking at her as they made an appearance in his cheeks when he smiled. "Not making it weird. Here's to that."

She laughed as the happy sack landed in her hands, holding it there as she squinted in the sun, grin cheeky as she gazed at him from her small distance. "Yeah, we'll just have to pretend we've never seen each other naked." She joked as she finally threw him his toy back.

The golden haired boy returned her smile, eyes mischievous as they made a show to glance at her figure from head to toe. "Trust me, I'll have to pretend a lot more beyond that to stay civil."

And before she could even think to voice her thoughts of Fuck, how did that almost kinda turn you on, a sudden and loud blare of a familiar siren startled, Haley’s and JJ's eyes widening as they met, a panicked expression matching in their features.

"Shit!" Haley uttered as JJ dropped the happy sack, her head turning to catch sight of the impending police car making its way towards where they were parked. She quickly glanced to the lighthouse, her heart dropping when she saw no sign of John B or Kiara, JJ grabbing her by the arm suddenly and practically dragging her into the van in the passenger seat, him running to occupy the drivers as Pope's head popped up between the seats, questioning them both erratically. She could give him no answers however, having no idea what had prompted the police to arrive. Haley had no time to think about what could have happened as JJ slammed his foot down, peeling out of the grassy area and away from the scene. "What about John B and Kie?"

"They'll be fine," JJ assured her, though they were empty words. He had no clue what had happened either, or if his friends would make it out and away from the lighthouse in time, but he still reached over and squeezed Haley’s knee gently when he saw her worried look. He caught her gaze and held it. "They'll be fine."

She could only hope that was true.

It was hours later when Haley and the Pogues gathered around John B's kitchen table, deadly silent as everyone processed what had just transpired.

She’d had JJ and Pope drop her off at home after escaping the police at the lighthouse, aware that she had been gone a long while and her mother was probably sick with worry by that point. If she wasn’t home within the hour, Haley had no doubt that she would have the police patrolling the streets, searching for her. When she toldthe boys this, they chuckled as she ordered them to park around the corner from her home, not wanting her mother to spot her leaving the van. She’d told them to call her when they heard from either John or Kiara, and they'd both agreed as she climbed from the van and walked the familiar path to her house.

Sure enough, Lana practically collapsed into her when she’d entered. Her arms were wrapped around Haley so tightly as they squeezed all the air out of her lungs, her mothers voice in her ear a jumbled mess of words laced in a frantic tone. Haley assured her she was fine, that no harm was done, and that she had just gone for a walk around the Outer Banks. Lana seemed hesitant, but had allowed Haley to ease her worries as she led her towards the couch and sat her down, letting her mom hold her for as long as she needed to assure her mind that she were really okay.

Haley felt almost bad, seeing her in such a panicked state. But then she remembered if she had just answered her questions truthfully instead of hiding everything from her than she wouldn't be sneaking around in the first place. And then the guilt subsided, if only a little. (Haley still felt awful.)

It was a couple of hours after that when a knock had sounded on her bedroom window. She had startled, her heart racing as she wondered who the hell could be knocking on her window, at night, too. She almost very nearly didn't go towards it, in fear of the two faces of the men from earlier that day greeting her, but she’d exhaled a sigh of relief when her eyes landed on the face of JJ Maybank.

"Care for a late night drive?" He'd asked, and she’d rolled her eyes. His grin never faltered as he watched her put on her boots, checking in on her mother and determining if the coast was clear to sneak out, before she’d climbed from her window, thankful that the house was only one story as she did so. Despite that fact, JJ's hands still gripped her hips as he helped her (though he didn't have to) down from the window.

She’d felt instant relief when she spotted Kiara and John B sat in the van, having resumed their earlier positions. Kie grinned at her as she got in the back along with JJ and Pope, who smiled at her also, as Haley began to question the both of them on what had happened after they’d fled the scene.

They'd been caught, of course. But they'd also been released, and that was the main thing. Haley decided to focus on the positives as John B drove them all off, this time to a cemetery of all places - leading the way towards a specific grave that he informed them all was his great-great grandmother, Olivia Redfield. Her maiden name, apparently.

And of fucking course inside that crypt was a white FedEx envelope, addressed to Bird, which they would later discover was actually John B's nickname given to him by his dad, who'd actually left the envelope there - hoping one day that his son would find it. (Because of fucking course Big John would do that.)

The pieces to the puzzle were all coming together, bit by it, slowly but surely. They’d all returned to the Chateau upon the discovery of the envelope, which contained a map, the sight very familiar. (The Royal Merchant, of fucking course it was.) And there was a very obvious X displayed on it too, X marks the spot. Along with that, a tape recorder fell into the palm of John B's hand.

"Dear Bird," the voice had started, vaguely familiar to Haley’s ears. There was no question as to who the voice belonged to - Big John Routledge was speaking directly into the room, all five teenagers gathered around listening intently. "I didn't expect to find the Merchant either."

Haley’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, her breath catching in her throat as she glanced at JJ who was beside her, his own face a perfect replica of confusion and amazement.

"There she is, the wreck of the Merchant. If something happens to me, finish what I started." Big John's voice continued to fill the deafening silence of the room. "Go for the gold, kid. I love you, Bird, even if I didn't always act like it. I'll see you on the other side."

The recorder clicked off after that, once again silence engulfing the room. Haley felt her stomach churn, her heartbeat to quicken, her palms beginning to sweat. She couldn't believe it. Big John Routledge had gone and found the Royal Merchant. The Royal Merchant, of which her own father had spent months obsessing over. The Royal Merchant, as in the ship that had sunk over two hundred years ago. The Royal Merchant, in which had bought her and this ragtag group of misfits together.

They all littered around the pontoon close to John B's house, beers in hand as Kie strummed softly on her ukulele, the night air a welcome comfort to Haley’s clammy skin, her heart having still not calmed from when she’d first come to the realisation that Big John had found the Royal Merchant, and now she was joining the Pogues on finishing what he had started - for her own father, she thought as she looked towards the stars in the summer nights sky, smiling softly up at them. For you, dad.

"How much was it again?" JJ broke the silence, the golden haired boy seated closest to her.

"Four hundred mil," John B reminded, though he said it dreamily, almost as if he still couldn't quite believe it. She couldn't, either, in all honesty. Five teenagers, about to charge head-first into a treasure hunt? They had to be crazy. But for four hundred million, anyone would be.

JJ's head turned at rapid speed, before he let out a sigh and clasped his hands together, looking between them all. "Alright, let's talk the split. Now, before we say 'evenly' may I remind you that I am the only one that can properly defend us from those groupers who were after us," he branded the gun, waving it around as he spoke. "Protection? Not cheap, okay?"

"Technically, that should be my gun," Haley pointed out, shrugging a shoulder and smiling cheekily when he turned to glance over at her, frown etched on his lips. "You said so yourself, remember?"

"You said you didn't want it!" He protested instantly.

She licked her lips as she teased him, "Well, maybe I changed my mind."

JJ shook his head, tongue running over his teeth as he stared at her in disbelief, though his smile was enough to let her know he found humour in her actions. "You don't just get backsies on a gun," he deadpanned.

Haley rolled your honey coated eyes as Pope quickly interrupted the two of them. “You haven't trained," he directed towards JJ. "You've done zero training."

"YouTube, bro!" JJ countered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "This," he pointed to the gun. "Is at least a five percent bump right there."

The group collectively ignored him, though Haley sent him a smirk when he looked at her, an expression of am-I-right or am-I-right on his pretty face. Kie tilted her head towards Pope. "What are you gonna do with your eighty mil, Pope?" She questioned.

"Pay for college in advance," the boy answered immediately. "And also, textbooks. Those are expensive."

Haley couldn't help but smile at him, Pope, ever the thoughtful one. She knew if she had half the brains Pope had she’d probably be the exact same as him - planning ahead, working towards college more than anything. She admired the boy, truly. But her future wasn't nearly as bright as Pope's, she was aware of that. Which made the desire to find that treasure from the Royal Merchant all that more huge.

"What about you, Haley?” She was broken from her thoughts as Kie suddenly directed her words to the other girl, raising an expectant brow as she came to, noting the rest of the gang all looking at her with similar expressions.

What would she do with her money? Honestly, she had no idea. She felt incredibly lucky to even be considered to get a share of it, given that she had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, demanding answers about her dead dad and the damned compass that had started it all in the first place. She’d questioned the guys immediately after the discovery of Big John's reveal, telling them that she was totally okay with not getting a share, had even told them she’d back off and leave them to it, though so many more questions needed answering in her mind. But they'd all immediately disagreed, letting her know that she were apart of this just as much as they all were. This was her journey, too.

"Move me and my mom out of our shitty house," Haley decided. "Get a huge ass house on Figure Eight, buy anything that we wanted. Treat her to everything she could have ever dreamed of. Maybe buy a holiday home in Italy, visit there every year and have a holiday romance with an insanely hot Italian guy."

Her and Kiara shared a giggle at that, missing the way the blonde beside her shifted almost uncomfortably, eyes downcast towards the water for a second before he licked his lips, proclaiming loudly, "I know what I'll do. I'm gonna get a big ass house on Figure Eight, and go full Kook," JJ announced, eyes meeting hers and sending her a wink. "We can be neighbours."

Haley laughed outright, shaking her head at his dramatics as he continued. "Gonna get a marble statue of myself, and then I'm gonna get a koi pond, put a bunch of those fish-"

"I'm never visiting." Kie mumbled, interrupting his sentence as they all shared a laugh, gazes suddenly turning to John B who hadn't spoken in a while, the tanned brunette simply staring off into space, almost seemingly lost in his world.

"What about you, John B?" He looked back towards the four of them sprawled out on the pontoon, his eyes catching Haley’s own for a millisecond, the pair of them understanding exactly what was going through both their minds in that moment.

"To going full Kook," he raised the hand that held his beer, the group of Pogues wasting no time in following the action, all their hands raising, beer cans glinting under the moonlight as they all exclaimed, "To going full Kook!" into the summer nights air, the excitement and anticipation present in all of their voices.

And she grinned as she clinked her beer with JJ's, the blonde throwing a careless arm over her shoulder as he tugged her closer to him; Haley’s own naturally wound around his waist in return as they all laughed and joked into the night, the promise of an adventure and bright future's ahead of them all.

She failed to notice that their arms never really left each other until later that night, when her departure from the gang forced her to unwind her limbs from his, their gazes catching, secret smiles on both their faces.

Oh, this would be fun.

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